


Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance

by TaraRhyme, thosetooweaktoseekit (TaraRhyme)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mental Harry Potter, Politics, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Social Anxiety, Teenage Drama, Throwback, Time Travel, Time Travelling Harry Potter, not dealing with trauma, shenanigans instead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraRhyme/pseuds/TaraRhyme, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraRhyme/pseuds/thosetooweaktoseekit
Summary: Harry Potter saved the world. But he hasn't saved himself. In a search for happiness, he stumbles upon a spell that will give him a fresh start. In an alternate universe in 1971, the life of Harry Potter pales to the adventure that is Hadrian Riddle's. Perhaps 'Riddle' is not the best alias, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and most certainly not his only problem.
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 153
Collections: Harry Potter





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-post from my old account I've been logged out of for like... four years. It's on FFnet and I asked the peeps on there if they wanted it continued and got some yessirs. Sooo I'm cross posting and continuing this blast from the past. Should be funny :)
> 
> Lots of stupid humour, has that distinct flavour of 2015-16 up until chapter 16, which is where I've continued now in winter 2020.

Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the wizarding world was at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says that he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't bring herself to understand. Professor McGonagall is still wholeheartedly glued to the "eventuality of his acclimatization to a perfectly normal life". But Harry knows, on a deeper level, that he isn't haunted by the war. He misses it. That constant state of fight or flight, and something else entirely, it felt as if a very part of his being is gone- and it is the part which made him feel alive.

So in search of happiness, true fulfilment, Harry read. Which is absolutely not a thing that would have came to mind, but with the maddening press looming over every public space, the dark corners of a gloomy Grimmauld Place was what Harry found refuge in. After the first few months, his outings became sparser and visits became rarities. Books were his dusty companions, and he was lulled comfortably the more gory they got by volume. There was such an odd comfort he took in the violent pages of rituals, curses, hexes, bindings, chant circles, and more archaic magic. After moving past reading it took a much shorter time for Harry to become a practitioner. With outside interactions often ranging from three to eleven times a month, Harry had much time to himself. He familiarised himself with basic Dark abilities and spell casting and delved into a strange magic.

Theory.

Theory was a very touchy subject for most witches and wizards. A dead Art, most called it. Theory was something that Harry fell into love with. Theory is your connection to any world, an earthly plane. Well, it's finding your connection. Theory speaks of different worlds like we are interacting with them every day unknowingly, due to the magic flowing in our very beings. Theory is the magic of warping literal reality. This is no mere illusion. The worlds that are around us every second are reachable through the magic in us. With the art of Theory, your magic can do anything to the fabric of existence.

Well, that was Harry's books had told him. And he was hooked. It sounded so- well, magical. He felt so right reading it, it was like it was left there just for him. Of course, that means it needs some exploration.

A year after the Final Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is practically a recluse- and dabbling with any magic that suits his fancy. A small part of him misses his friends. A very small part. He is too disconnected, and something isn't alright inside with him. A yearning is what triggers him to follow through with his plan, that and the feeling of unadulterated 'yes'. He finishes drawing the markings into his skin with a pen (because this is the modern ages and it is unnecessary to do it with a knife, that is mildly dramatic). The stage is set and he begins his night vigil after downing the various herbal concoctions he had stirred per the instructions of this ritual. He closes his eyes but must stay awake, and easily can due to anticipation. After a time would could be hours or minutes or seconds or days, Harry feels like the light of sun is starting the fall upon his face and he smiles and thinks it is over and then he remembers he is inside-

and it is _burning_.

Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and certainly the least of his problems.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**... _And_ Bloody Hibbledingers?**

"Shut up, please, pl _ease-_ "

"I'm not even trying anymore-" he hissed back balefully.

"You're still thinking, it's annoying." A loud huff accompanied this.

"Are you serious right now?"

"For your own sake, and my sanity, I hope to Morgana that wasn't a pun."

"A pun? I'm always serious!"

"Are you fucking with me right now? Do not push-"

"S'that a threat, or your own sick way of flirting? Haven't got to _Slytherin_ to any chicks?"

"Both of you- goddammit- just shove it," The third member of their party bit out, as sharply as one could while whispering.

"Oi!" His voice raised in pitch with indignity. "He's the one going off about 'hearing me think'! It's utter bollocks!"

"Oh, apologies- I know that actually using that thing in your skull must've been a nice change- but it was physically hurting me- feeling you try to achieve something in your life. Like being able to process a fucking thought." The aim of this ire rolled his eyes, unseen in the shadowy midnight.

"You definitely aren't getting any. A lot of pent up frustrations, I can see that."

"I swear to Merlin, aren't you fucking twelve-"

"-nearly, but I'm only eleven-"

"Put a sock in it! If the two of you don't stop going off, Filch will catch wind of us! Or worse, a professor!"

"I feel like someone here is very familiar with socks."

"Oh, you really don't need to chime in, I think silence-"

"Nice one."

"I aim to please."

"The both of you, little shits!"

A soft click echoed over their heated whispers, and this particular fifth floor corridor fell silent. The shadows were heavy and hung to hide the small frames. The only light was the moon shine pooled under a narrow window in the end of opposite hall, and it produced an eerie quality that danced on the still figures of armour.

The boys took refuge in this particular hallway because it lacked any paintings, which was not a common occurence in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Regardless of their earlier banter, there was a steady fear coming from the crouched boys, brought out stronger by paranoia. Was that just the sound of an old castle? Or was this the thing that would bust them? They were growing worried for their futures and their missing member, when almost on cue a soft patter of footsteps began to reach their ears. For precaution, no one moved. Only once the person was revealed by the soft moonlight did anyone speak.

"What's happening?"

"We've got a bit of a problem," the newcomer bit out. "Tracked as far as Hogsmeade, so Hogwarts is being searched as we speak. We have... maybe fifteen minutes to dispose of our evidence and be in our separate dormitories, fast asleep. And to be ready for a cursory investigation, simple questions by a rookie, first thing in the morning."

"I can't go to Azkaban, I wouldn't make it a damned day on that damp rock," the blond groused, but it didn't hide the true fear in his eyes.

"I think I would rather face a dementor than my father..."

"I hate to be the one to interrupt, but can someone fucking acknowledge we have bloody _minutes_ to get ride of this thing?"

"Burn your clothes too, or find someway to be rid of them. I don't know how else we can cover our tracks."

"I'm more fucking focused on the body we schlepped here for _fucking_ nothing!"

"That is not our fault!"

"Yeah, well how's it gonna look lined up next to the other crimes we committed tonight? We have motive!"

"10 minutes people."

"We should bury him properly."

"I say who gives a f-"

"Put him in the armour."

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Unfortunately," Harry gave the suit of armour a contemplative look, "not the weirdest thing we've done today is it?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the wizarding world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione thinks he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks time heals all wounds, and a straight lace lifestyle is all Harry needs to abide by now. But Harry knows, he's not haunted by the war. He misses it. He feels lacking._

_So in search of true fulfillment, he turned to other means. After a year of shirking from society, he finds a ritual cloaked in a barely explored branch of magic that he feels an intristic pull to. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willingly to take it, if he could fully embrace that warm feeling of being alive again._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**"I Find It More Cosy"**

(Four Months Earlier)

The train shone in the mid-morning light, its platform bustling with all manner of toads, witches, owls, wizards, cats, and one very grumpy sugar glider.

"Do remember to owl, darling! Owl as soon as you can!" Her voice was powerful to reach over all the others to her target. "And don't forget to give Professor Merryweather our well wishes! And honey do remember-"

We'll have to suppose James Potter did not remember whatever it is his mother would have liked him to, because the whistle of the train blared loudly and drowned out her last words.

The gleaming red Hogwarts Express rose to action with great noise, and with enthusiasm hundreds of children cheering, it began to slowly leave the station. James was still leaned out a compartment window, cheeks a little red from embarrassment, but after eyeing the platform, he didn't mind his mum and da having calling after him. Many parents did the same, and at the least his mum didn't cry great big fat tears like a couple embarrassing mums did.

He gave a hearty wave, unable to hear a thing anymore but he could see his mum's mouth making out words. He shrugged a little to himself and knew it was pointless, but he waited until after they began to fade into the crowd, and the crowd and platform faded away completely, to lean back into his compartment with a great sigh of contentment.

He most likely would _not_ write his parents at the earliest convenience, because he would a little to busy ruling the castle as he planned. But he would make sure to write them sometime soon enough- after all he has to tell them at some point of how he became a Gryffindor, and he had give a grand recap of all the adventures he would have.

James was in the middle of a particularly detailed daydream where he was riding a hippogriff, and all the girls in Hogwarts were cheering as he swooped down towards them holding the wand of the Dark Lord in one hand and in the other a--

Did that shadow up there just move? The one by the trunk that wasn't James'? Thinking of it now, it was odd someone just left their trunk in an empty compartment and didn't come back...

James peered more closely at the rack above the seating opposite him in the compartment, only to jump back when the supposed shadow rolled over, slipped out, and kerplunked onto the floor in a very nasty way. Something made a crackling sound.

"Are-are you alright?' James was too confused to question anything else at the moment. The stranger didn't answer, choosing instead to dust themselves off and stand abruptly and smile.

"Er, wow, hi- I'm Hadrian. Hadrian, um, Riddle."

"James," he answered slowly. "James Potter." The other boy smiled a smidge brighter. "Say, what were you doing up in there?" The boy, Hadrian, threw himself down across the other side of the compartment with an air of complete indifference.

"What were you doing down here?" The boy shot back. James thought to himself for a moment.

"Well, thinking I suppose. And sitting. Which is what seats are for, you know." The boy waved a hand dismissively.

"That's what they want you think."

"Who?" James was bewildered. Hadrian Riddle sat up again in a swift move, and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Them. You know. But then again, who cares anymore? The corporation is everyone." Again he props himself up on his elbows with feet up and his body spanning one side the compartment. He didn't say anything, and James didn't know quite what to do. The silence was broken by the distorted voice of the trolley lady calling outside in the corridor of the train.

'Fancy a froggie?" James offered almost despite himself. The boy smiled again that smile, a little too wide.

"Only if it's chocolate. Not one for the delicacies over here." James stood to get the chocolate frogs as the voice drew nearer and hacked a bit of a grin before tossing a comment back.

"Not much of a Frenchman myself, I s'pose." He slid the door open enough and stepped out but before he went to the bustling candy vendor, he popped his head back into his compartment. He eyeballed this boy, this Hadrian Riddle. "Say though, I have to know, what in Merlin's saggy left tit was yourself doing up there?"

"Riding a train," the boy answered. He was still smiling just so, "and well, I find it... how do I say? Well, cosy, I suppose. Yes, that works the best. Cosy." James frowned a little.

Hadrian Riddle closed his green green eyes, and James went to go get a couple of chocolate frogs.

And that was that.


	3. Chapter 3

_Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the wizarding world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione thinks he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks time heals all wounds, and a straight lace lifestyle is all Harry needs to abide by now. But Harry knows, he's not haunted by the war. He misses it. He feels lacking._

_So in search of true fulfillment, he turned to other means. After a year of shirking from society, he finds a ritual cloaked in a barely explored branch of magic that he feels an intristic pull to. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willingly to take it, if he could fully embrace that warm feeling of being alive again._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**The Boy in the Diary**

In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry was plagued with a massive migraine. It was of truly _epic_ proportions, and yet he couldn't be happier because _it couldn't be Voldemort._

Voldemort was gone. 

The fight was over.

"Harry?" It was Hermione, gently gripping his shoulder. "You should rest a bit, you look," she giggled a little, just a bit hysterically, "awful. It's getting late. Don't stay out here."

When he slept that night his dreams were blinding _ly white,_

_King's Cross,_

_it was flushed down a toilet,_

_understanding,_

_friends,_

_Crucio--_

_"Back again, Harry?" And he spun around, but no one was there._

_No one at all._

One Year Later.

It was _burning_ , from the outside in and the inside out, the heat so intense it felt almost frigid, and _then_ something snapped into place, and Harry could suck in one breath _but he couldn't get enough_ and he grasped at the rough cobblestone below his hands with desperation (but there are no cobblestones in the floor of the ritual room in Grimmauld Place). Harry believed he now would be utterly consumed- to never see the light of day again- when a sudden rush of _being_ hit into him... there being no other way to describe it.

A parade of memories with emotions and names and places and stray thoughts (Mary-Lisa and her thrice damned pigtails! She's a right pig, alright). The burning fire was gone quick as it came, and Harry came to... on his side in a cobblestone street with four little boys hovering over him.

His mind supplied: Jones, Kevin, Rickford, and Will.

"Think we done and got the freak good," Will proudly puffed his chest. Harry became aware of sharp pains in various places and also the fact the four little boys were far larger than he.

"Scat! You brats are fed in five minutes! A minute late and you won't get a damn drop!" Suddenly the gang was gone and replaced with a tall and imposing woman. Formidable and familiar. He'd seen her often, in memory only, scouring for answers. Harry couldn't help but whisper weakly,

"Riddle." Mrs. Cole scoffed and toed him with her boot. She wanted him to get up, but also didn't seem to mind that he might've just been beat up.

"Congratulations, you managed to get your own name right. Maybe that shows you're learning, and one day you'll stop causing so much damn trouble. Don't expect a supper after your behaviour. Whatever you did to those boys, you will apologise after they eat. Understood, boy?" Harry realised this woman, this real and alive Mrs. Cole, wanted a reply.

"Yeah," he said, his voice wispy and weak. 

"Yes, ma'am," she corrected.

Harry groaned and let the darkness in the corners of his vision swallow him up.

A week after his arrival at Wool's Orphanage and he still hadn't adjusted to the level of subservience. He had unlearned, he supposed, all the wonderful teachings of the Dursleys after the war.

His name was Hadrian Riddle. That was either an odd coincidence... or something more. At the moment, it was one of the _last_ things he cared about. But he couldn't help but feel that was a result of his first word being that bastard's name. There was a settling of magic on his skin when he whispered the Devil's true name, and this new world became clearer around the edges.

The living was not exactly great, but he was still a wizard and he felt a wholeness he hadn't for a long year. It was like the beginnings of bandaging an open wound. You start with a disinfectant.

It was two weeks into his luxury stay in the orphanage, and note sarcasm, that a letter came with another imposing yet familiar face. This one, however, was friendly. So Harry sat on his dingy bed in his dingy clothes across from grey eyes peering through round glasses, and listened to a young Minerva McGonagall explain magic and Hogwarts. She asked him at the end, lacking her usual state of sternness if he had done any magic before. She asked with comradry, and Harry just looked at her and undid her tight bun to let her black hair escape with a smile. She gasped so slightly and one hand absentmindedly went up to fix it.

But she left it down and sat back down across from Harry before leaving.

"You have quite the gift," she told him. "Magic has given you much. Use it well." And then as if she couldn't bare to be so obviously stricken she added, rather misplaced, "And always be punctual, Mr. Riddle!" 

She returned again in a couple of days to take him to Diagon Alley, and Harry found himself looking forward to it. When she arrived he already knew something was different. She was distant and didn't look him in the eye. There was just a general distaste, and Harry found himself alone in the world again.

A few weeks later she brought him to the train station, and they did not speak at all this time, but Harry had found himself slightly embittered already by last time, so he was alright with it. They were rather early, so he quickly found an empty compartment and swung himself up into the space above the seats for luggage. He found himself craving the dark recently. It was comforting. With minutes he was asleep, the lack of food, hydration, rest, and care took its toll on the small boy.

You can imagine the fright he had to see a young version of his father waking him.

When James returned with the chocolate frogs, Harry was mentally prepared. He thought he did well winging it, but he wants to get off on the right foot with his own father, the man he never had the chance to know. Now they can grow up alongside each other as friends-

or not.

James tossed him the package and Harry caught it on just reflex.

"Did it scare you much?" James started at Harry's voice and he answered little shiftily.

"Nah, I wouldn't say that."

"Shame," Harry sighed wistfully. "It is a waste of a lovely prank."

"You like pranks?" James tilted his head down mischievously and waggled his eyebrows. Any strange feelings about anything were lost in childish pleasures and comradry.

"Love em," Harry grinned shark-like.

And this odd meet up was the start of a beautiful friendship.

_Hours later..._

Harry listened to James go over the finer points of the Bulgarian Quidditch team's defense against London with a deep, contented feeling. He had never in life- he was sure- felt this complete. And wasn't that odd, his missing pieces being summoned back by sitting by his would-be father in what should be the 1970s in an alternate reality.

Just another day in the life of Harry Potter.

Scratch that, Hadrian Riddle, he thought to himself.

"Who's your team, eh?" James prodded, and then began to size up Harry up, as if he could sense his taste in Quidditch teams through that.

"I'm loyal to London through and through," Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defence dramatically. "But I won't lie, I've rooted for Puddlemere United a few times more than healthy, but never against the home!"

"I might have a slight fondness for the Cannons," James admitted, albeit reluctantly.

( _Ron_ , Harry's mind whispered- but he ignored it)

The boy acroos from him perked up with no trigger, and squirmed excitedly. Harry quickly found out why.

"What House do you think you'll land in?" James elaborates unnecessarily. "At Hogwarts?"

Harry felt his stomach get heavy and ill. He was never one for prejudice, but it did not sit right with him to carry the Riddle name and the Slytherin house upon him. Returning to an old habit, he ran his fingers through his hair with ease. He felt the coincidence end there, he didn't know why. But Harry had such a sudden itch in his head, like he had forgotten something large.

Riddle.

What if he is real? What if he's here? What if we're related?

Oh my god, what if I am him?

Using a muggle term instead of throwing a Merlin in there- that was purely from shock of his own circling thoughts. Vernon had tried to put the fear of God in him as a younger boy, but it never stuck. Thank Merlin.

Remembering _the_ James Potter sitting across from him, Harry put a thoughtful face on.

"Gryffindor sounds great," James smiled and prattled a bit on his family always being in Gryffindor and if he noticed the stilted way Harry had said it, it didn't show.

Falling into another nervous habit, Harry reached up to push his glasses further up his nose- only to discover they weren't there.

How is it, Harry thought with exasperation, that I don't notice these things. Then he realized, honestly, for the first time- he had no idea how he looked right now.

Oh well, he decided, I'll check in my dormitory bathroom.

It has to be recognised that the orphanage was such a shithole that the two bathrooms in the entire place, shared by 43 children, couldn't manage a mirror between them. But of course Mrs. Cole can afford her rich diet of the finest whiskeys on an every morning basis. There was a semi decent reflection in the tiles in the shower, just enough that you could see you were a person...

* * *

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" The gruff, booming voice of Rubeus Hagrid resounded over the bustling mess of students pouring from train compartments. Friends were shouting over the din, and luggage was being tripped over more times than Harry had ever thought possible- all in all, it was nearly impossible for he and James to wrestle their way around. About halfway to Hagrid's swinging lantern, James made the mistake of talking to an upperclassman.

"Excuse me," he asked (politely, thank Merlin for the little mercies), "could you move your luggage aside?" The student that James had tentatively tapped on the shoulder turned slowly, and Harry nearly face-palmed when he saw the Slytherin ensemble on the boy's robes. James already had an issue with the snake house, with any luck he would just keep his mouth shut. He looked to be a year or two above them, but that wasn't what Harry focused on. It was the shoulder-length, blonde-white hair and stormy grey eyes that had him almost ready to whip his wand out.

He was staring at the face of the notorious Death Eater, Voldemort's right-hand man, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. But more important then flimsy titles, is that this man was a right damned arse, and had hurt people Harry cared about.

This was the person that killed Bill Weasley.

Granted, Harry hadn't known Bill that well, but he had been a great asset in the war with his extensive knowledge coupled with his dueling skills, and he was a just good guy all around. No, Harry hadn't known him well- but knew he didn't deserve to die the way he did.

(Strung up as an example in the trees, Hermione would not stop crying but Ron didn't make a sound didn't seem to blink)

"You," the future Death Eater stressed the word,"are excused." Then he turned around to his gangle of friends, dismissing us. James looked like all he had heard of 'evil, slimy Slytherins' had just been confirmed.

And Harry was looking very pissed. He jabbed Malfoy in the back with his index finger (nothing like the tentative tap from James earlier), and spoke in a deadly tone- that honestly must've sounded a bit funny coming from an eleven year old, a wee little firstie.

"But you," Harry stressed the word 'you' mockingly in imitation of Lucius, "aren't." The Slytherin let a shocked expression fleet over his face before it was replaced by calm indifference. He clearly wasn't used to being disobeyed. He looked disgusted. "Move your bags, or lose them. It's very simple, even those goons should be able to grasp the concept." Harry chucked a thumb in the direction of Crabbe and Goyle with a sour twist of his lips. Another boy, older than Malfoy, maybe a sixth or seventh year, stepped towards them.

"Well, what exactly are a pair of newbies going to do? Go on, I want to hear this one."

"You don't have to hear it," Harry said softly and maliciously. A part of him said this was a very bad idea, but something about mini Death-Eaters-in-training really struck a chord in Harry.

They didn't know what he could do.

he felt something he was breathing-

Plus, he had his own bone to pick with at least half of these Slytherins. And their brats of children. So, with a deceiving smile that the real Riddle would've been proud of, Harry's inner recklessness took over and the towering collection of Slytherin luggage promptly disappeared.

Vanished.

Into thin air.

Harry (Hadrian- He really needed start thinking of himself as Hadrian) nearly smiled at the dumbfounded looks of horror on the majority of the teens' faces.

He really couldn't be sorted into Slytherin- he'd be murdered in a week, tops, for this little stunt. Wistfully, Harry thought of his first Sorting. Slytherin was, in theory, just a house. But the people who try to promote "Slytherin" ideals, those that represented it, were bigots, supremacists, and all folk of cruel manner. He wasn't so silly to think the wars were about magic light or dark, the magical core proclivity was used as a formal excuse for genocide behavior.

Before they could do anything to him or James, Harry grabbing the formerly mentioned boy's arm and weaved through the crowd- but not before catching the calculating state of the older boy that had scoffed at them.

Well, Harry thought, I told him. Just in a rather round about way.

But, no matter what, Harry couldn't get the sight of those piercing, judging eyes out of his mind. It reminded him of second year when his Parsemouth abilities were discovered.

It reminded him of Snape's gaze boring into him with slight apprehension, fear, and calculation.

Evaluation.

"This way," he muttered to James, who had quite nearly hurtled into a Prefect. Harry was overjoyed it wasn't a Slytherin, though. He and James and Harry's wild behaviour had had enough run ins with the Slytherin house today.

He realized, now that his inner chaos inferno had quieted back down, he had just possibly created an enemy out of an entire house.

What a great start to a great year, Harry thought sarcastically.

With that, he, James, and the rest of their year mates followed the swinging beam of light that was Hagrid's lantern- down the dark path of pine needles and dirt to the awaiting boats.

* * *

"This can't be safe." Everyone rolled their eyes at the boy's antics. "What if someone falls out and drowns? That could make Hogwarts liable, you know."

"If you don't shove it, I _will_ shove you. Talking anymore could make you liable, you know." Harry stared out of the corner of his eye at the one who had not-so-subtly threatened the portly Peter Pettigrew.

It had been disturbing to meet his father, but he had never knew James-had nothing to compare to. However, when a voice called to him,

"Oi! Mind if I board with you?", and he was looking into the face of Sirius Black all of a sudden- Harry was at a loss for words.

His godfather, his only family, whom he had watched fall through the Veil still smiling, was crouching next to him.

And eleven.

And wanted to board his boat with him. Harry, of course, let him.

It seemed since coming here that Harry was often finding himself overwhelmed with every emotion. Not shocking considering his lack of interaction the year before.

Their boat left earlier than the others, but that was James' fault. He was the one who pushed off dock while Hagrid shouted after them- "You were to go after me! Yer all ahead!" James looked bashful but somewhat pleased, too. His playful side was out to play, the future founder of the Marauders. Whom may not exist actually, in this time. All that future and comradry may never come to be, not here.

Harry choked down a sob he didn't know was there.

The emotions were- much-

I'm fine, he reassured himself, you knew there was a very strong chance of seeing him again- then it sunk into Harry.

Remus would be here.

Lily and- oh dear lord- Snape. The dour Potions Master, would he still become a Potions Master?, would be here, and Harry was the only one who knew about his home problems. Should he do something? This man bled out on a dock for him, well the woman he loved but altogether it was relative.

"Hadrian?" He had spaced out again, and James looked slightly aggravated. This was happening to him too often. He needed to stop dwelling and just live his new life. For himself and only himself, for once.

And wasn't that a nice thought?

"I'm telling you guys-" Pettigrew was talking again, but he never got to finish. Sirius had stood up, clearly intent on getting his point across, and swayed back and forth as though trying to make the boat just shake a little. He was trying to scare Peter, while also proving that there was no chance of anyone falling and drowning.

Too bad it didn't work out that way.

With a whimper of fear, Peter lunged for the edge of Sirius' robe, as if to pull him down. Instead, Sirius leapt away and promptly landed on Harry who went flailing backward, with Sirius in tow.

The boat lifted with their momentous falling, and James and Peter found themselves being thrusted forward as the boat quickly flipped. James, Sirius, and Harry were a tangle of limbs and appendages- flopping in the dark, glittering Great Lake.

James sputtered violently- spitting a mouthful of water at Sirius who immediately dunked his head under the water to avoid the spit and sadly took a still-attached Harry with him. When up again Sirius glared at James, though admittedly half-heartedly as it was partnered with a wild grin, and turned to Hadrian.

"Sorry," he said with an easy shrug. Harry grinned back.

"You can say that after you untangle your robes from me. I can barely move, and i don't know how long we can stay floating." Sirius went a dark, flushed red that Harry had never seen on him before.

"Sorry," he repeated, muttering this time while fumbling with the hem of his soaked uniform and Harry's soggy ones. In frustration, Sirius just ended up pulling down off them entirely.

Harry wanted to laugh, but felt he shouldn't. He wasn't sure why. Peter broke the semi-awkward silence.

"See," he whined. "Now we have to swim to shore." James rolled his eyes.

"Don't be stupid, we'll flag down the next passing boat."

Convienently, it was Hagrid, who shook his head and muttered under his breath about 'dangerous ideas' and the 'next generation'. All the same though, he pulled them up and out of the bone-chilling waters. When they sat in Hagrid's large boat, shivering, he apologized.

"Yer going to 'ave to wait to dry off. I'a, well, ain't allowed to be doing magic, strictly speaking. Yer going to 'ave to ask Professor McGonagall to spell yer robes clean." James let a look of horror shadow his face.

"My da's talked about her! She's super strict, and has no leaning for 'Nasty, little, buggering troublemakers like you'. At least that's what he always tells me." Sirius stared at James, interested. But for a different reason then Harry thought.

"Don't get along with your folks?" He asked, looking interested.

When James eyed Sirius strangely and shook his head no, Harry decided it was time to sacrifice some dignity. He knew why Sirius asked after all.

"Wish I had parents to not get along with," he said morosely. Sirus whirled on him, appearing just a bit guilty.

Probably feeling bad that he had parents and he hated them, and Harry didn't have anyone. Which Harry found slightly ridiculous, as he'd met the shrieking portrait of Walburga.

How could someone be grateful for such abuse?

"I stay at an orphanage in London, the kids there are horrible. Don't even get me started on the the matron, Ms. Cole, one time she-" Harry stopped abruptedly, he had almost spoke too much. He wanted Sirius to feel better, to know he wasn't alone, not spill out his embarrassing and painful childhood and therefore alienate himself. No stories.

Which, wasn't really even his. Though honestly his real childhood was no better.

Ugh, the Dursleys.

The cupboard.

"So James, what's your life like, huh? Any funnier stories? That was kinda, um, sad, Hadrian." Pettigrew and his ignorance to any underlying delicacies, saved Harry and Sirius too from uncomfortable scrutiny. James launched into a story about the time he set the Manor on fire, and Harry felt glad he had so effectively changed the subject.

The orphanage and what he had to live like, was embarrassing. There were much nicer care homes in London, Harry was sure, but of course he lived in the one most ill suited for its purpose.

* * *

So they stood at the very end of the line of first years, waiting to enter the Great Hall for the Sorting. James' fear of the infamous McGonagall had him stoutly refusing to ask for a drying charm. James and Sirius tried ever mild drying-related charm but the results were mediocre. They didn't look like drowned rats anymore, but their clothes were still far too damp and they were chilled to the bone.

" _Oh_ , for _Merlin's_ sake, this is absolutely-" Harry said, at the end of his patience with the whole situation. "Let me throw on some warming charms. We won't dry off, but we wouldn't die of hypothermia or look stupid shivering like leaves in the Hall."

"Yes," Sirius practically moaned in relief, "please. I don't know how, that's why I didn't do it." With a wave of Harry's wand, the odd group was sighing in happiness. "Miss built in heating charms." At Harry's questioning look, Sirius elaborated. "Manor wards, y'know."

Right then, the huge entrance to the Great Hall swung open with a deafening creak.

Harry eyed the enchanted starry ceiling, and the long tables with their extensive silverwares. He took in the High Table and the twinkling face of an alive Albus Dumbleore, who, for once, wasn't in the seat of the Headmaster. It was different, but the same.

Harry was home.

Now, he only had to convince an old, stubborn Hat that he belonged elsewhere then Slytherin. Oh, joy. Harry looked wistfully at the man that- in a different life- could've been his father.

_-true greatness and your path to greatness it would lead you to greatness greater than those before-_

Thing is, even with the awkward connection to Riddle he had in this place looming on the horizon, Harry still felt that strange feeling- that feeling of belonging. The one he had never really had at all, the one he hadn't realized he was missing until he had it. It was odd, that this felt so right. 

But Harry was okay with that. And maybe a little bit...

 _Harry_ was okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, rating may most likely change in the future- but nothing worse than Teen, for violence and very, very mild language. Yeah, thought you might want to take note of that.
> 
> And I hope that it was noticed how, in chapter one, it said 'one year earlier'. That first section was at the end of the year, sort of like a taster of what's to come. I had fun writing the different crimes they committed because, rest assured, they committed them- well, it's complicated. You'll see! Now though, it's at the beginning of the year, obviously :)

_Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says that he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to 'a perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war, he misses it._

_So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**The Sorting: Of Students and Situations (there might have been a snake involved)**

"Potter, James!" Harry watched nervously as James was sorted- he was next. With a loud shout, the Hat announced Gryffindor, and James swaggered for the red and gold table. Professor McGonagall (who, when taking in the appearance of him, Sirius, James, and Peter, scowled and muttered a drying charm while giving one of her infamous speeches on irresponsibility and stupidity) glanced down to the sheet of names once more, and Harry saw her eyes widen just slightly. A thoughtful look took over her face.

"Riddle, Hadrian." Harry walked with purpose, not pompousness, to the crooked stool. His heart was thumping. He didn't have anything against Slytherin house or its traits- just the people within sickened him. Oh, and he happened to piss off a large section of them on the station, which really wouldn't do his credit any favors. I'll be fine, I'll be fine, he chanted in his head. Before he knew it, the tattered black brim of the Hat slid over his eyes. He had to admit though, he was enjoying how no whispers had broke out when his name was called, like when he was Harry Potter.

"Mr. Riddle, let me see...

Oh! Mr. Potter... How sly of you. You are certainly- certainly clever- have ambition for yourself and will do anything to achieve your ends. Not unlike the Tom Riddle I had conversed with but a few years ago. Before Harry could protest (or scoff, Riddle's sorting was so not 'a few years ago') that he didn't belong in Slytherin (because it was clear where the Hat was going with this), the Hat spoke again. But you have heart, Mr. Potter. A brave, chivalrous heart. You've just buried it for a while. You want happiness, because despite reaching your ends- you didn't feel complete. I hope you all of luck in-

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry grinned at a hooting James and Sirius, but felt odd after the Hat's words. He knew the Hat wouldn't tell anyone who he really was, that wasn't the issue. It had seemed the Hat was sad to put him in Gryffindor- he had a feeling the Hat was just as disappointed with this generation's Slytherins as Harry.

He glanced to the silver and green table, to find the sixth (or seventh) year from earlier practically rolling his eyes with a look that plainly read, 'of course he'd be in Gryffindor'. Harry made eye contact and, feeling particularly dangerous, winked.

Live life while you can, right?

And looking at the older Slytherin from across the room, that wouldn't be long.

He had forgotten how wild Gryffindor parties could be, and now wasn't sure how he ever did.

Perhaps things were more 'party-er' in the 1970s? Who knows. Harry enjoyed it though, as Harry Potter he has been to busy fighting evil and after the war everyone sort of drifted apart. No time for parties, really.

And, as he gazed over the dim Common Room, Harry decided that was a downright shame. James and Sirius had their arms on each other's shoulders and were standing on a desk, swaying from side to side singing some unrecognizable (to Harry) wizard tune. It was slow and sweet and oddly romantic. The best part was how they sang it with straight faces.

A red haired girl was scowling at James who had yanked her to her feet and spun her around. Lily. Harry smiled nostalgicly at the beginning of a rivalry that once upon a time ended in love. Some students whooped.

"Shake, shake! Awoooooo-" 

Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he made his way toward the stairs that would lead to the boys' dormitory. As much as he loved watching his godfather and father in their element- he hadn't slept in a week or possibly longer.

A lot of preparation had gone into making his little trip possible. When he did nap he was talking with Dumbledore in that odd dreamscape place, which always gave him more to think about, which meant more headaches that prevented him from sleeping. The endless cycle.

And, of course, he wanted to see how else his appearance had changed besides from fixed vision in the dormitory bathroom.

The stairs seemed a million miles long, but finally Harry struggled to the top and stumbled blearily into the bathroom. His sleep deprivation was catching up to him.

Rubbing again at his eyes, Harry then gripped the edges of of the sink to steady himself before raising his head to stare into the mirror. It was then he realized how literally the spell had taken his words.

His eyes still shined like a Killing curse, an unearthly green. His skin was pale but not waxen, on a sharp cut face. His hair was somewhat the same deep midnight-black, but now if the light hit it a certain way, it was streaked with...light browns? Odd hair. And instead of the Potter trademark mess... his hair was sculpted and refined with the slightest of a curl on the ends.

In other wording, he was a darker-haired, green-eyed, smaller-framed, paler Tom Riddle. The spell had taken him very, very literally, it seemed... How in the world did he have such a coincidence?! Riddle, that same orphanage (at the very least one terribly identical), and how. he. looked. It was getting a little absurd. At least he wasn't identical to what he could remember of teen Tom Riddle, but it was cutting it too close. Something was up.

Harry would have probably screamed in horror at his features (and their Tom-Riddleness) if it wasn't for the fact he was exhausted. So, with resignment to his fate, Hadrian crawled into his bed, the one by the window, as it had been back when he first attended Hogwarts.

He fell asleep to the distant shouts of his raucous fellow housemates, and muffled music.

GAHHH! With a snort, Harry tumbled from his bed and ended up tangled in the sheets he had dragged down with him. Ignoring his undignified awakening, he climbed precariously to his feet, still wrapped from head to toe in cloth.

"Who the hell, sets an alarm for FOUR IN THE BLOODY MORNING!" James, in the bed next to Harry, groaned and pulled his pillow over his face, mumbling something that sounding suspiciously like 'who shouts at four in the morning'.

Harry ignored that too, in favor of glaring at the auburn-haired student whom had meekly raised his hand from the other side of the room. "Next time," he growled, "put a Silencing Charm around your bed so you don't make the rest of the house go deaf along with you." The boy nodded quickly. Harry started yanking at the sheets he was encased in aggravatedly. "Don't even have classes today," he muttered quietly.

The boy heard though, and turned scarlet. The rest of the dorm glared at him, all equally annoyed by the wake up. James just pressed the pillow into his face harder- if that was possible.

Later, Harry would realize why the boy with the early alarm seemed familiar- now he just dived back into his mattress with a contented sigh. All too soon though, the sun's rays were glaring through the window and breakfast time was upon him.

He pulled a reluctant James and Sirius to the Common Room with him, and they all started to trudge down towards the Hall with a few other stray groups of students.

They never made it there.

"AHHHH!" Came the shrill-ish scream. " IT'S ON THE STAIRS!" Harry rolled his eyes while simultaneously wincing at the loud voice. He turned the corner with James and Sirius and headed for the last staircase to the Great Hall, where the supposed beast was. James hung back a bit.

"Wait," he said uncomfortably, "what if there is a- a thing? It could be- you know- poisonous animal or something like that." Sirius looked to concur with that statement, and so Harry was surprised when he didn't move from his side. It seemed like he had made a friend in the Black heir.

"James, even if it were poisonous, we're wizards. We can do magic, 'member? If it's so bothersome, someone could just vanish it. Now where's that Gryffindor fearlessness gone?" Harry said it all lightly and slightly teasing, which James responded well to. He stepped forward and dramatically thrust out his chest. Then, flexing his scrawny arms, he said-

"Let that thing try and touch all this." Harry and Sirius slyly glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They couldn't help it.

They burst out out into loud guffaws, and clutched their sides in breathlessness. James looked a tiny amount offended.

"It's not that funny," he protested. Sirius pushed himself upwards on the hallway's wall for support and gasped out-

"Yes-it-is." When James went looking to Harry for back up all he got was a swift shake of the head no. Pouting, James folded his arms and began to walk away in a spiff. Harry and Sirius followed, still holding their stomachs and sputtering incoherently. As the three walked down the stairs, Harry turned to James.

"See, I told you there probably wasn't a-" Harry's next words were forever lost as a hissing, spitting something propelled itself onto his face. He pulled at it, stumbling around and trying to avoid being bitten by its sharp teeth.

So, maybe there was a beast.

Just maybe.

And, maybe, it was attached to Harry's face.

A scaly body whipped Harry's neck with strength, and he realized what had propelled itself onto his face.

A snake. Great.

He heard a voice snarl, _Defend! Defend!_ and Harry thought the most horrifying thought of all. Had time and universe travel somehow given him back the soul piece of Voldemort? That was the most logical explanation for the reason of why Harry could suddenly understand Parseltongue again. In his confusion and whirling train of thoughts Harry opened his mouth, forgetting the James and Sirius were there.

 _Be still, I mean you no harm_. The snake shifted so quickly Harry almost missed it. Instead of trying to embed its teeth into Harry, it was now wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Like a terrifying and over-grown pet.

While Harry had forgotten the existence of Sirius and James, they had not forgotten him.

"You just hissed at it," James said lowly, "and it... stopped trying to eat your face...

Are you a- well can you- did you re- was that Parseltongue?" He tripped over his words, staring at Harry hoping for a denial, clearly. Harry nodded slowly, well aware of the snake still around his shoulders. James stepped away, and asked quietly, "Do you make it attack?" Harry was quick to reply.

"No, never. I didn't even know I could speak to snakes until now. I know though, of the bad rap Parselmouths are given. Will you tell anyone?" James appeared to gather himself together, then have an internal debate. Finally he spoke.

"No, never." He parroted slowly. "I don't think you would really... hurt anybody. Besides, why would I sell out my first friend at Hogwarts? It's not like I've said anything about the train." Harry was touched, and surprised though he didn't show it. James considered them friends? After a ride of the Express, and a night's rest? His father was very trusting, innocent. God, Harry wished he still had that part of himself.

"What about the train?" Sirius inquired, eyes eager. "Oh, yeah, I won't say anything either. I grew up being taught that Parseltongue was, like, a sacred gift. Anyway, what can you really do in Parseltongue? Talking to snakes doesn't make them your slaves or anything." Harry took in his godfather's naivety with a grin. Parseltongue meant Parsel Magic which was extremely powerful and that, yes, you could control snakes as slaves. But Sirius' version worked so much better for Harry.

Both him and James ignored Sirius' question about the train.

"So," he said, "ready to eat?" Sirius and James exchanged looks.

"Uh," James began, "you have a snake on your shoulders." Harry nearly smacked himself. Duh.

 _May you, hm, please come off me?_ The snake dipped its head respectfully and slithered down his body to the floor. As it made its way to the other side of the staircase, Harry heard a voice drift from below them.

"Still haven't found my luggage, sir... " Harry immediately looked to the large, Pythonic snake making its way calmly away as the footsteps of one Lucius Malfoy and some adult came closer and closer. Before he could move, an angry, haggard face was in his.

"Where are my bags? I've searched all night, nothing. So tell me where they are!" Harry was about to reply in a perfectly polite manner, but a hissing, spitting something had launched itself onto Malfoy's face.

The snake.

Dear Merlin above.

Its mantra was different this time. _Defend! The castle and the speaker! Defend!_ Malfoy had nearly shrieked his head off, had lost all composure. Slughorn, the adult that had been with Malfoy, was shouting with his wand in the air.

"Stay still, boy, so I can get rid of it!" James leaned towards Harry.

"Um, shouldn't you tell it to stop?" Both Harry and Sirius replied happily.

"Nah."

And when all was looking up as they watched in awe, a clipped voice spoke from behind them.

"Evanseco." It was Professor McGonagall. "All of you to my office." The stern Professor demanded, with a disappointed glance in her Lions' direction. Harry, Sirius, James, Malfoy, and Slughorn started to follow.

"Not you, Horace." She scolded the other teacher. The round man smiled and said 'silly me', but Harry was sure he didn't imagine the relieved smile on his face.

Harry sighed as his stomach rumbled, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look that promised pain.

A great start to a great year, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna say it right now, not a fan of this chapter. Oh, well.
> 
> Sorry it's been a while, packing and preparing for my trip to Europe. I'll try to not take as long next time.
> 
> Thanks for everyone's support! You guys are all the best.


	5. Chapter 5

_Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to a 'perfectly nice, normal life'. But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war._

_He misses it._

_So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Promises Were Made to be Broken**

"Do you find this funny, hm?" Her face was like that of the sky when a huge storm was approaching. Though not as intimidating as her older self it was still quite scary. Sirius promptly choked on his laughter, while Lucius sent a malicious glare of disgust in his direction. Probably thought that he was shaming the Black family with his un-Pureblood mannerisms. Harry buried the urge to spit in the Malfoy heir's face.

By the time they had all reached her office, the Professor was considerably calmer- but still thin-lipped and stern-faced.

"I will not deal with this! Not again. Perhaps you believe yourselves to be all that, but your little prank could've killed Mr. Malfoy!" Sirius and James shared a confused look. A prank? Professor McGonagall thought they had set the snake on Malfoy?

"You cannot do these sorts of things and expect to get away with it. I've had pranksters of your likes before- but this is beyond any 'prank' I've seen. This could've cost a life. Not at all funny- hardly laughable!"

"Professor-" James began.

"No, Mr. Potter. I do not want to hear your excuses. Want I do want to hear is who's brilliant idea this was." She gazed demandingly downward at James, but Harry could've swore he saw her eyes flicker quickly in his direction.

"I'm telling you Professor, we didn't do anything. Really!" James protested hotly. Sirius nodded his head emphatically. Harry nearly grinned at the two of them, but schooled his face blank as McGonagall turned to him. However sincere and true the words James said were, he knew the Transfiguration teacher needed sound logic to follow by. And logic said that they were the perpetrators. He said otherwise.

"What evidence do you have that are solidifying your claims against us? What does it say when the head of Gryffindor immediately jumps to the conclusion that her own first year students had attempted to injure, possibly even kill, another student? Until you have a piece of foolproof evidence to pin the events of today on three first years- your own Lions no less- there is no reason behind punishing us." Harry realized how adult he sounded in the moment, but also realized he was in a new world, new life. He could be anyone now. Like an eleven year old with a strangely solemn demeanor, and/or manner.

In the moment, he finally really felt like just Hadrian Riddle arguing with Professor McGonagall. Not Harry Potter pretending to be someone else.

"Innocent," he said softly, "until proven guilty." The woman stared at him in silence. It could've been hours or seconds, but eventually a gleam lit her eye. It was of quiet resignation. She knew he was right.

"All of you return to your activities. And Mr. Malfoy, as you are here I might as well inform you now that we have located your baggage." The slight happiness in the blonde's face went away at her next words. "It was found at the bottom of the Lake and your items are refusing to be dried. I simply mean that everything you had is accounted for, but is waterlogged. It won't dry naturally, and magic does nothing. All the same, the caretaker placed it all next to your dormitory bed."

Harry quite nearly smiled. It had been a tricky bit of magic, not to mention it was wordless and wandless. The amount of emotion he had in that second though, helped complete the spell. Malfoy left the office in a rage, and practically slammed the door. Harry left the office without Sirus and James, saying he wasn't hungry anymore.

"You sure you don't want to grab a bite to eat?" Sirius asked.

"Really, I'm good." Harry responded. "Probably going to study a little more Transfiguration. McGonagall seemed tough." Sirus had nodded and then left to the Great Hall.

Harry then exchanged a pleasant goodbye with Professor McGonagall for the sake of being on good terms and polite.

"I am sincerely sorry that we had to meet in this way again, Professor McGonagall. I'm Hadrian Riddle, one of your first years. We met earlier, of course, and I look forward to your class."

"Do you?" She said.

"Yes, ma'am. I was particularly interested by the theory of the Animagus. It is labeled as an interpretation of the soul, but the form is known to change in situations. So, is it believed the soul itself is changing, or is the theory wrong? Or maybe a little off? Transfiguration is a very precise magic, but at the same time so little is specified about it." Professor McGonagall's mouth turned upwards ever so slightly.

"The theory of the Animagus is a debatable subject, but not nearly as much as the theory of changing matter. We can discuss sometime, Mister Riddle, if you really find the syllabus so uninteresting in the weeks to come."

"A brilliant mind to converse with? It would be an honor, Professor. Any way I can improve my knowledge of magic. Besides, I really don't think James or Sirius would want to talk about the theory of changing matter." The Professor laughed a little.

"Perhaps young Mr. Potter would rather have a game of Quidditch, hm? Rather like his father before him. Now," and she fixed him with a serious look. "I am aware I blamed you three unjustly, I had a rough night yesterday. Stress got to me and I lashed out unprofessionally and rudely. Just promise that the three of you won't be up to any mischief this year... I need a peaceful bunch for once."

"Basically, you responded to stress like a human? It's really fine, Professor. And I promise that we will stay out of trouble, stick to the rules like glue." Harry dipped his head respectfully and turned and opened the door. Before he could step out into the hall though, McGonagall called out.

"Hadrian? Do you- I mean- well, are your parents around?"

"No, ma'am. I live at Wool's Orphanage for Boys and Girls." Boy does magic like her irony, he thought to himself. "When you came to visit, still, er, the same place."

"Oh." She said, quietly. "I apologise it's... I had- well. Wondered if you met them before, I meant."

"It's alright." Harry said as quietly. "No, I never knew them. At least, not that I can remember."

"Well, I suppose everything happens for a reason." She looked thoughtful and a bit distant, as if her mind was on something else, but gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Doesn't mean we have to like it." Harry said a bit harshly. "But you are right. Everything happens for a reason." He looked the Professor in the eye. "For a reason, good or bad."

Harry left the room with a deep burning hatred rising for Voldemort in his gut. A bad reason had killed his parents. And he had killed Voldemort for a good reason. But now this was a different universe. Voldemort was probably out there somewhere lying low while Grindelwald wrecked havoc.

But not for long, Harry decided. He was going to find Voldemort, he thought, and stop him before he really got started.

He was going to kill him if he had the chance.

Lost in thought, Harry walked the halls aimlessly. "I don't know what your playing at, muggle boy, but I warn you this is a dangerous game to play." A voice spoke from behind him. "Don't involve yourselves with our house, our people. Otherwise, next time, there will be a price to pay." Harry nearly snorted, but instead remained facing the opposite direction.

"What price? To whom is it paid?"

"Stupid questions! Just heed the warning, know who is above you." Harry let silence settle a little before talking.

"I know who is above me," Harry said lowly.

"Good." The stranger said with satisfaction. Harry had long since ruled out Malfoy, too deep a voice.

"But clearly, you don't." Harry knew that was a risky move- but went through with it anyways. When he eventually turned around, no one was there.

He had planted the seeds of wariness, confusion, interest, dislike, and the odd respect that the Slytherins would have to give for his prowess with the luggage trick and the manner he handled everything in.

It really all was just a stupid game. But kids become moody teens become dangerous adults. Harry knew.

"I'm sorry, again, for this morning. I had just wanted to be prepared for the day and- well, sorry. Really, sorry." The kid from the morning with the four a.m alarm smiled sheepishly as Harry stood by the portrait door he had just came through with one eyebrow raised. He was about to speak but- "My name is Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin."

Harry's eyes began to burn. It was all too much, shock was coming in. Remus, whom he had seen still and cold and dead at the Battle of Hogwarts was standing here, young, whole, alive, and in front of him.

"It's fine, I promise. Please, if you'll excuse me." Harry brushed past the auburn head of his old Professor and toward the dormitory. He needed to collect himself- his thoughts.

Harry sat down on his bed, and before he knew it he had drifted into sleep.

_"Your time, your place. Your time, your place." Those words echoed in the empty air, a mantra._

_"What does that mean!?" Harry shouted to the heavens. "What does that mean?!"_

_"Your time, your place. Your time, your place. Your time, your place."_

_"Why?" Harry asked in frustration. "Why is it my time, my place?"_

_"You belong. You are home."_

_"I don't understand."_

_"You have never belonged, now you do."_

_"I don't get it!"_

_"Welcome back Hadrian."_

Harry woke being shook back and forth. Out of habit he grabbed his wand and notched it under the person's neck. He quickly lowered upon realizing it was James.

"Sorry, I thought-"

"Shhhh." James whispered. Harry frowned but then took in how the dormitory looked. Everyone was in bed and sleeping. A sliver of moonlight was trickling in from the window. He must've slept through the whole day. But the dream had felt like no more than a minute or two.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I thought I was being attacked." James looked at him weirdly but then grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door, slowly inching it open. He then took Harry down to the common room where Sirius sat in one of the poofiest chairs sleepily.

"Time to explore," the shaggy haired boy whispered happily. Harry glanced to the common room window. It was pitch black outside, clearly past curfew. And as he, Sirus, and James made their way into the corridor quietly as possible, all he could think of was the promise he made to McGonagall.

Oh well.

Promises are made to be broken, right?


	6. Chapter 6

_Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to a 'perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war._

_He misses it._

_Without it, what is his purpose? He feels at a loss. So, in search of happiness, true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**The Door in the Floor**

The clock struck ten with finality, and the man in the shadows paused his pacing. With a soft creak, the door which he had eyed with both trepidation and exasperation for the past hour opened.

"Please, do come in." The shadow man stepped forth-no-glided forth to the inside of the office. "I apologize for the wait time, I was catching up with an old friend."

"No apologies are necessary, I am not in too much of a rush."

"Please, seat yourself." The shadow man did. "You are not one to make calls in the dark of night, so rushed and urgent." The office man's voice lowered. "You are most certainly in a rush, so I do apologize most sincerely. Now, tell me what you wish to speak of."

A moment of heady silence coated the room before-

"Grindelwald." The office man sucked in a long, deep breath and listened intently to the shadow man's words. "Monday, I don't know how. But my sources are clear it happens Monday. My sources are not misinformed, I made sure."

"You tell me this, why?"

"Because the target is Hogwarts."

"It is impossible."

"Apparently not."

"Will you stay and aid?" Another silence laid in the room, thick and weighty.

"Of course I will. Hogwarts is my home." The office man sighed.

"I will have Madam Marron set up a room for you for the next couple of nights, Tom."

"Thank you for your consideration, Albus."

"It is not an issue." The shadow man dipped his head and walked out of the office as silently as he had came.

Unbeknownst to one Tom Marvolo Riddle and one Albus Dumbledore, down a couple of floors three first years were exploring the castle after curfew. Unbeknownst to one Tom Marvolo Riddle, one of those three shared his name and Dumbledore knew it. And Dumbeldore didn't want Tom to know it.

Unbeknownst to one Albus Dumbledore, Fate doesn't play by his rules.

* * *

"Does anyone have a clue where we are?" Sirius asked. Harry did, but he couldn't say so. Instead he was forced to walk the castle and pretend like he had no idea where they were.

"Nope!" Spoke James cheerfully. "Not an inkling! Oooh! More stairs!" Sirius and Hadrian made eye contact and mentally groaned in unison. They trudged forward with sore feet, the castle seemed to sprawl on forever.

"Come on now, dear." A motherly voice drifted from the upcoming staircase. "Just down this way, and a bit left." James froze in step, eyes wide. Sirius backed away slowly. Hadrian grabbed James' shoulder and forcefully dragged him to the wall. In the dark they waited for whoever it was to pass them by. As shoes clattered down the stone steps, the three pressed themselves against the wall even harder.

Then wind began to whistle gently in their ears- for the floor had began to move down with them on top of it, in complete silence. They still faintly heard from above as they shifted down- "Just here Tom dear, do you want help settling in?"- before they hit the bottom of the hole.

Sirius was smiling wickedly, Harry could barely see it by the faint line of torchlight from above.

"This is what I expected from Hogwarts," he whispered excitedly. "Trapdoors, secret passageways, and stuff!" James nodded fiercely in agreement.

"That's great and all," Harry shot back, "but do either of you know how to get out?" James continued to grin like an idiot.

"Nope! Not an inkling!" He said. Harry groaned and pulled out his wand. For show he whispered,

"Lumos!" A small light appeared at the tip of his holly and phoenix feather wand. He had been overjoyed to receive his old wand when he went to Ollivander's, it was like reuniting with a long lost friend.

Sirius and James looked at the wand in awe.

"You've gotta teach me that one!" They chorused in unison. Harry shushed them and began to look around the tiny space they had landed in. It seemed they were about fifteen feet down in a five foot by five foot room. He didn't see any way out, but as Harry turned a glint of silver caught his eye. He walked over closer and leaned down.

A small but intricate snake was carved into the wall, shiny and rearing its head back as if about to bite. Harry tried his luck and whispered to it in Parseltongue. Open. Nothing happened. Open for the heir of Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four. Immediately the wall faded away to reveal two sets of stairs. One going up, one going down. James and Sirius rushed over to where Harry was, and both went to go down the descending stairwell. Harry grabbed both their cloaks.

"What do you think you're doing? Up! Now!" They hung their heads in disappointment, but went up the stairs.

This staircase didn't just go to the next floor- it kept whirling upwards until the three were sure that they had trekked higher than the heavens. But finally a door appeared that let out directly across the hall from the Gryffindor portrait hole. As soon as they stepped out the door it vanished into smooth wall.

"That was amazing!" Sirius whispered with joy. "We've got to find all the other passageways in the school!"

"Then we can pop out wherever and scare people!" James said happily, a dreamy look on his face.

"Yeah!" Sirius said, or at least he meant to. Instead he yawned half way through so it came out more like Yeeeaaaahhhhh.

"We shall continue our adventures in the morning!" James said.

"You guys go on ahead," Harry said. "I have something I need to do."

* * *

He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know if it was true. But it was too much of a coincidence.

Hadrian Riddle was Tom Riddle's son.

It was the conclusion Dumbledore had come to, the most logical explanation. He would reassure the other teachers that there was no relation between the two. He didn't want anyone going around saying Tom Riddle's son had arrived at Hogwarts.

On the chance there was a relation, he would make sure the name Hadrian Riddle was not mentioned around Tom. Because if this was Tom's child, the very child that Dumbledore had been told was killed in one of Grindelwald's raids without Tom aware that it even existed, then Albus was in for trouble. Because eleven years ago he was still on good terms with Gellert Grindelwald...

...and he had planned out a raid to eradicate the Riddle line.

He had attempted to kill little Hadrian Riddle and his mother and thought he had succeeded. He of course felt guilty later, but thought it for the best. If it would be anything like Tom, he was doing the world a favor. Plus, Gelllert needed proof that Albus still sided with him. What way to better prove that then plan a raid that would be focused on killing some baby and its mother?

Dumbledore realized now all the horrifying mistakes he had made, realized how twisted and cruel the war made him. He had wanted nothing more then to start fresh and be free from the Great War still raging with Grindelwald, but then Hadrian Riddle shows up and reminds him of the horrific past deeds he had committed.

No matter what, Tom could not discover what Dumbledore had attempted all those years ago. He couldn't even discover that Hadrian was any relation of his. If he learned of the name, Albus would have to interfere. As far as Tom would ever know, Hadrian Riddle as his _son_ does not exist.

It was for the boy's own good, really. Tom Riddle does not know of compassion, love, or caring. He would most likely ignore the child at best. At worst... well, Albus preferred not to think of that.

He sighed sadly and tiredly. He was going to have an interesting couple of days. Well, it is a big castle. Perhaps they'll never meet without any interception from me? Wishful thinking, Albus admitted to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Last Chapter...**

It was for the boy's own good, really. Tom Riddle does not know of compassion, love, or caring. He would most likely ignore the child at best. At worst... well, Albus preferred not to think about that.

He sighed, sadly and tiredly. He was going to have an interesting couple of days. Well, it is a big castle. Perhaps they'll never run into each other without any interference from me.

Wishful thinking, Albus admitted to himself.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**The Lion in Snake's Clothing (or was it the other way around?)**

Harry knew it was a bad idea, but he also knew Malfoy would continue to harass him if he didn't do this. Honestly, he just did not feel like dealing with that at all.

And that is why Harry was sneaking into the Slytherin first year dorms via Parselmouth passages.

He didn't know all of the passages, as he discovered a new one less than an hour ago, but he knew a fair few. One in particular opened up from the huge painting hung above the mantel of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, which he was headed for now. If he was lucky, Harry would sneak in and un-curse Malfoy's trunk, then sneak out how he came in.

It sounded simple enough, but as he slowly swung the painting open the difficulty of the task began to set in.

Every step he took he half expected someone to jump out at him and yell "Gotcha!" with relish. Which was stupid, but didn't change his thought process.

Before he knew it though, he was in the dorms. He moved with catlike grace to the still wet trunk (courtesy of his spell) and muttered a few pieces of Parselmagic. By morning, the trunk and everything in it would be good as new.

Harry mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done. Nearly yawning with exhaustion despite his day nap (why was he sleeping so much? Maybe universe traveling can cause serious jet lag) Harry made his way to the fireplace.

Instead of going directly to the painting and leaving though, he found himself staring into the flickering flames. He could just barely make out his face mirroring in the dancing fire.

What had he done?

Why had he done it?

Harry fell back into an armchair, head in hands. What had possessed him to think that some vague spell with barely any explanation could fix everything?

When he discovered the Inner Incantation he was overjoyed, and plunged right in like the Gryffindor he was. It was vague, the despriction merely said 'to find where you truly belonged', then instructions.

The spell just felt so right to Harry. Probably a sort of Compulsion.

Yes, here in this world he felt more comfortable and at home, Merlin knows why. Still, how foolish a move. He didn't think it through. After a year (a year!) of work, he just rushed through everything and packed little more than the Maruader's Map, his Cloak, and a couple Dark artifacts.

He didn't even say goodbye. Perhaps the old gang had fallen apart, but that didn't mean he didn't remember with fondness and longing the good ole days where all they had was each other. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville- the least they deserved was a goodbye.

But he was here, now. And he was gonna find out why he was so at ease somewhere that should be harsh, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable to him.

And he was gonna find out what to do with this opportunity, to be anyone he wanted to be. A clean slate. A fresh start.

He could be Harry.

Just Harry.

With that happy thought, and a slight quirk upwards of the lips, Hadrian dropped off into sudden sleep, the fire still dancing around and the common room still dark, quiet, empty- except for one troubled sleeping boy.

* * *

_Quite nearly seven hours later in the Hogwarts staffroom..._

"Six in the bloody morning," one muttered.

"He's off his rocker," one muttered back.

"Great start for the year," came one sarcastic comment.

"All of you, shush. Show a little decorum, respect." Minerva McGonagall, the fierce Transfiguration teacher, reprimanded.

It was right then the very man who had called this particular staff meeting together, walked in the door.

With a cheery smile, no less. Oh, the audacity.

"I have news." He spoke, with a pleasant mood wrapped around him like a blanket. "An old student has returned to Hogwarts for the weekend, to help aid us."

"Aid us with what?" Interrupted one crabby professor.

"He wishes to aid us with the apparent attack Grindelwald is launching on Hogwarts, this upcoming Monday," stated Albus Dumbledore. He was no longer smiling, but seemed to grasp at the cusps of his old cheery disposition, as if he were afraid to lose it.

You could hear a pin drop in the staff room.

And they had the floors covered with rug.

"Tom." Minerva stated. "He's the 'old student', isn't he?" Albus nodded. Minerva took in a deep breath. "As we've breached the topic of one Tom Riddle, I must ask, as most of us have probably been wondering-"

"If Hadrian Riddle is Tom Riddle's son?"

"Well," Minerva hesitated, "it's just that I was thinking about the rather unsavory rumors circling Tom these days and I remember him from school. Coupled with what you've warned us of- well, I thought that there was possibility that Hadrian could be the same." She seemed ashamed to admit the last part. "I felt horrible afterwards, but the thought had definitely crossed my mind."

"I can assure you," Albus said, "in full honesty, that Hadrian Riddle and Tom Riddle are in no way related. Riddle is a rather common Muggle last name, and they look as alike as they look different." Minerva smiled.

"It is good to have clarification, but it doesn't particularly matter to me anymore. I've talked to him- he's a genuinely sweet boy. Poor thing is orphaned, can you believe that? And he'd doesn't have any memory of his family, just holed up in that dreary children's home."

Albus shared a sympathetic face with Minerva.

"WHO SETS AN ALARM FOR SIX ON A SUNDAY!" Shouted James, red faced and bleary eyed.

"You sound like 'Adrian." Slurred Sirius from his pillow.

"Sorry," the random boy replied, "at least I didn't set it for four." He pointly looked to Remus, who covered his face in embarrassment.

James growled in response and flopped back down on his bed. Sirius looked up again at the sound and spied from the corner of his eye Harry's bed by the window.

Which was empty.

"Hey, James?"

"Whaaaat?" He groaned in response.

"Where's Harry?" James sat up, looked at Sirius, then looked at Harry's bed.

He stared quizzically at the untouched sheets.

"Huh."

* * *

Tom was bored.

Very bored.

So bored.

Very, very, very bored.

I have to wait until Grindelwald shows up, Tom thought.

I don't like waiting.

People wait for me not the other way around, he thought tiredly, as if explaining two plus two equals four to a small child.

So bored.

* * *

Where the hell am I?

Then it hit Harry.

He never left the Slytherin common room last night.

A small thumping of footsteps was coming from the dormitory stairs, making its way to the common room.

In a tizzy, Harry stood and promptly realized he wouldn't have enough time to make his escape through the painting.

He was trapped as some random Slytherin began to make his or her way down. So, there was only one thing left to do.

Sit, grab a book from the bookcase, open it, and act as casual as possible. Like he spent every morning in the Slytherin territory.

Soon enough those small steps began to pad towards him.

"Excuse me, do you know where- eep!" A short Slytherin first year girl looked wide eyed at the Gryffindor emblem on his robe.

"Yes?" Said Harry patiently and politely. Act casual, this is normal. Act causal, Harry thought.

"Uh," she said, "well I was wondering if you knew where Slughorn's office is?" She was uncertain and distinctly confused at what was happening.

"Professor Slughorn," he gently reprimanded her. "And if you take a left from the common room and then take another left and a right, you'll find it by a painting of a grumpy, grey-haired, old man."

"Thanks," she said shyly- before bolting out the door.

Harry thought this was the time, he could make a break for it! But more Slytherins came down, all giving him odd looks and whispering to their friends, but he didn't have any real problems until the baby Death Eaters began to clutter the common room. Eventually it seemed all of Slytherin had come down to the common room to stare at the strange first year Gryffindor who had ended up among them.

A seventh semi-growled at him. "You that kid from the train station?" Harry turned a page of his book with concentration. "What you doing here Lion?"

"Reading, if you can't see." Said Harry calmly. "I find it more peaceful here to study then the Gryffindor common room. They are good natured, but don't know the definition of peace and quiet. You don't mind do you?"

The seventh year had nothing to say to that.

"Where could he be?" James moaned. "We've been looking for hours!"

"Uh, James, it's only been like fifteen minutes." Sirius reasoned.

"Your point?" James asked, completely serious.

"Nevermind," sighed Sirius. "Just keep walking, you lazy bigmouth."

* * *

He needed to talk to the boy. He wasn't quite sure what he'd say, but he needed to talk to him. Maybe give him some task to keep him out of the way for the next couple days.

But he was no where to be found.

For a scary moment, Albus considered that Tom had found Hadrian Riddle and whisked him away- but he dismissed it because Tom would've had stormed to his office and made his rage known.

Where could the child be?

* * *

After an hour of the silent staring, Harry stood.

"Where you going?" One Slytherin asked, trying to act disinterested.

"It's seven thirty- I'm going to grab an early breakfast." Harry replied honestly and politely. Being polite never hurt in a room full of confused and agitated strangers.

But before he had made it to the door, it opened to reveal a beaming Slughorn.

"House unity at its finest!" He boomed. "A Slytherin student came to me this morning and said a Gryffindor gave her directions- a Gryffindor she found in her own common room! How ever did you get in, my boy?"

Harry knew how to play the Slughorn game.

"I have my ways, sir." Harry shared a conspiratal smile with the Potions teacher. The man laughed heartily and clapped Harry on the back.

"I look forward to seeing you in class. What's your name, son?"

"Hadrian. Hadrian Riddle." The man's smile seemed frozen, but then it loosened as if he thought of something calming. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I wish to have an early breakfast." Harry didn't blame him if he was thinking of the unnerving Tom Riddle.

"Yes, yes, of course. Be on your way." The professor said hurriedly. Then turning to all the gathered Slytherins- "I am sure you will all do your best to accommodate Mr. Riddle and promote House unity?"

A chorus of yes sirs filled the common room as Harry slipped away.

* * *

_So bored. Nothingness surrounds me_ , Tom moaned mentally.

So... hungry?

No. Just bored.

* * *

Harry turned the last corner before the staircase out of the dungeons when he spied two students going at it.

"You little rotten scum- oh you scum of the earth-"

"Know it all _idiot_ -"

"Bloody coward-"

"Annoying git-"

"Stupid-"

"Fat little-"

"Choke on your own stupid neck-"

"Send you to the hospital wing in pieces-"

A Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, both upper years, were fighting like two street muggles.

Harry had to duck to dodge a Severing curse.

Okay, two street muggles who occasionally try to painfully curse one another. Harry wanted to keep walking, but his good intentions wouldn't allow it.

"Hey! You two, break it up!" Neither even paused. Then was when Harry removed his robe and rolled up his cuffs.

It was gonna get messy.

James stared at the stairs down into the dungeons. Now it had been an hour, and one of the few places they didn't check was the dungeons.

He swallowed deeply. It wasn't that dark down there, was it? James nodded to Sirius and they began their descent.

* * *

With a quick flick of his wrist, the Ravenclaw student was flung against one wall and the Slytherin was pinned to the opposite.

"Got your attention, now?" He released the two, they had learned their lesson. It could have been a teacher.

But Harry didn't take into account how much they hated each other- or how the Slytherin boy was slightly deranged.

"Diffindo!" The Slytherin shouted at Harry's retreating back. He turned- but not in time. The spell struck his chest, causing a jagged cut that stretched across his body.

* * *

Nothing ever happens in this school, Tom complained to himself.

Not even, perhaps, a decent fight or anything.

So boring.

* * *

The boy had obviously not expected Harry to still be standing after that hit, so when a quick Stupefy can flying his way he didn't even have a second to register.

He went down quickly.

Harry turned to the Ravenclaw, a shrouded anger in his eyes, blood running down his front. The Ravenclaw put his hands up placatingly and edged away in clear fear.

Dumbledore had found Hadrian, and was a bit frightened.

An unconscious student laid a couple meters away from Hadrian, whom was covered in blood, heaving.

But he pushed aside his superstitions, and sent a Patronus for that new Healer intern, Poppy Pomphrey.

"Mr. Riddle, are you alright?"

"Minor Diffindo, sir," he said calmly. "I used Stupefy to stop the other student's completely unwarranted attack on me." A voice shouted from behind,

"Harry!" Hadrian spun around to see James and Sirius making their way towards him.

"What did you call me?" He asked Sirius.

"Uh, Harry. It's shorter than Hadrian and I thought-" Harry cut him off.

"Thanks, er, I like it. Really." Dumbledore knew if he were to look in a mirror right now, his eyes would shine. Perhaps, just maybe, the boy wouldn't be like Tom. Tom would never allow someone to get close enough to him so that they could have a nickname for him.

* * *

"That's it! I'm leaving this room!" Declared the young man. Tom was bored, and neeeeded to remedy that. It wasn't as if he could summon his followers for entertainment within the walls of Hogwarts.

And, yes, he now admittedly called them followers.

He walked up the corridor and took in a most curious sight.

Blood.

Dumbledore.

An unconscious student.

Two Gryffindors, and a Healer ushering some bloodied student away.

"Ah! Tom, good to see you up and about." Dumbledore called to the man just lingering a little ways up the hall.

Dumbledore silently added to himself, and good you didn't get out and about sooner. You just missed Hadrian. Thank the lord for Poppy arriving when she did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Last Chapter...**

He walked up the corridor and took in a most curious sight.

Blood.

Dumbledore.

An unconscious student.

Two Gryffindors, and a Healer ushering some bloodied student away.

"Ah! Tom, good to see you up and about." Dumbledore called to the man just lingering a little ways up the hall.

Dumbledore silently added to himself, and good you didn't get out and about sooner. You just missed Hadrian. Thank the lord for Poppy arriving when she did.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Getting Caught Up To Speed**

Has Harry ever mentioned he hates the hospital wing?

Because he does. So very much. He had been lying in bed, being watched like a hawk by a barely legal Madam Pomphrey while his wound healed for over twenty minutes. Which, in his estimation, was far too long.

Harry couldn't help thinking to himself that using Parsel Magic would have taken no longer than a couple of minutes.

His second day at Hogwarts, and he was already under bed arrest. How stupid, really. Now he had to sit here and waste away time. Well, at least most of his morning was productive. He had gained Slughorn's favor with the right attitude, and now had the Slytherins confused by him. Should they hate Harry- or what?

He felt a little evil. But, of course, not like in a Dark-Lord-looking-for-mass-control way.

But not all went well this morning, and he wasn't just referring to getting stuck in a strict nurse's care.

Dumbledore. The man had always been a sort of enigma to Harry, but today there was something in his eyes Harry had never seen before. Or at least, never before seen directed at him.

There wasn't an exact word for it. Just something different, off, distrusting in the Headmaster's face. A distant look, as if when peering down at Harry from his half-moon spectacles, he wasn't really seeing Harry.

Then again, here he wasn't Harry. He was Hadrian Riddle. And as much as Harry hoped that Dumbledore was not drawing conclusions (false ones at that!) about his last name, the man tended to meddle and mix in matters that were not his. He tended to assume.

Harry however had no clue if those conclusions even mattered. He had no information on current wizarding world affairs, he wasn't even sure Voldemort was a thing. Perhaps Riddle hadn't even been born here. Harry could maybe just be acting paranoid about the Dumbledore thing. But the Hat had mentioned sorting a Riddle before him...

Though even as he thought this, Harry knew it was not only paranoia.

"If I may inquire, why is it that the newest hallway decor seems to be blood and unconscious student?"

"A mere misunderstanding," Albus said in a disregarding manner.

"Doesn't appear to be. Tensions running high between houses, I presume?"

"You don't have to presume, Tom. I know that you are well aware of the escalating issues among the Hogwarts houses." The old man's voice was tired now.

"How was the boy injured, the one being taken away by that new nurse?"

"Took a Diffindo to the chest, Madam Pomphrey should heal him right up." Tom nodded and smiled pleasantly, as if he particularly cared. Small talk rather was his area of expertise, but that didn't mean he actually enjoyed it, Dumbledore knew. Tom seemed to enjoy very little.

"I suppose you apprehended the attacker with a Stupefy?" Tom glanced to the still unmoving student. Rodulphus Lestrange. Pity, that he was so useless to have gone down with one spell. His father had always been rather advanced back in the day, apparently the talent hadn't been passed on.

"No, in fact that was young Hadrian's doing. He didn't take well to being cursed." Tom was mildly surprised.

"He didn't go down after dealing with the Diffindo?" Apparently the abilities of Hogwarts' students wasn't completely forfeit. "How old is this child again?"

Dumbledore hesitated.

It was only for a fraction of a second, but Tom caught it.

"This is his first year, here at school." Now that upgraded Tom's mild surprise to mild appreciation, not to mention Dumbledore's hesitation- which added a small spark of interest. Hadrian, hm?

 _Oh, what did he care_. Lord Voldemort had better things to do with his time than wonder on the abilities of the Hogwarts first years.

* * *

Harry threw another cursory glance around the room, this time though something caught his eye.

Sticking out just slightly from under a pillow, was a paper.

A newspaper, to be exact.

Natural curiosity took hold, and he walked over to the paper.

Madam Pomphrey was gone for the moment anyways. Off to fetch healing creams. She wouldn't have to know of his little traipse out of bed.

It was dated July 17th, 1971. So, earlier this summer. It was like someone was watching Harry, and heard him complain about not knowing anything political. Because this paper cleared everything up.

**GRINDELWALD GRABS HOLD OF GRINGOTTS**

**As most are aware, the notorious Dark Lord Grindelwald seized Gringotts and the Goblin nation within hostage nearly a week ago. Now sources say that the goblins are planning to make a deal with the devil himself.  
**

**Wizards and witches are still able to withdraw and make deposits, the goblins have claimed to the Liaison Office, but that is at the discretion of the Dark Lord. Many avoid making a trip to Gringotts on this basis**

**If the goblins end up siding with the Dark wizard, I am afraid- as we all should be -that this may be the end of the Wizarding World as we know it. Numerous powerful items are within the treacherous depths of Gringotts, and with money supply cut off the British wizarding nation would be lost.**

**Again, no such threats have been made, but the implication lingers in the air.**

**The Minister was not available for comment when approached, and the Liaison Office has offered no further detail.**

Harry turned the page to find another shocking headline hitting him in the face.

**RIDDLE RESCUES HUNDREDS**

**In a raid led by some of Grindelwald's best, Spell Master Thomas Marvolo Riddle (age 31) delayed the oncoming attack, and everyone within the building they were planning to burn, escaped with no harm done.**

**Everyone, I am sure, applauds his bravery and skill, but some others may wonder why he had even been there that night. The building held a private Ministry function, not to mention there have been unsavoury rumours circling the genius. After the two earlier incidents in the Spell Master's career, he's been virtually banned from formal involvement with the MoM.**

**The facts together don't bode well for Riddle. Perhaps this a ploy to gain favour of ministry officials, or to gain trust, for something more? Perhaps even to forgive earlier transgressions?**

**He spent many years after his Hogwarts graduation traveling the world, and worked as an intern at Borgin & Burkes, a store down Knockturn Alley well known for its Dark artefacts. An unassuming but successful life before the Salzburg siege, and the plots that followed. **

**But should we, dear readers, seed distrust so easily, or forgive even easier? Is the tale here to be:** **Tom Riddle, an unsung hero?**

**There is gratefulness for his aid, but in these times you never know who you can trust- not with all the facts.**

**Written by _Leanne Skeeter_ , _Reporter for the Daily Prophet_**

Harry wasn't sure what to think. He liked to believe that Voldemort was just as evil here and active, but as it was he was in an alternate universe. It was possible Tom Riddle hadn't even became Voldemort. Judgement would have to wait, it seemed.

But if it was _him_. Voldemort. Harry wouldn't hesitate.

Then, of course, there's Grindelwald. Whom apparently was not defeated yet. Yeah. Oh and Riddle was only 31 years old? so that meant the timeline was a bit screwed up too. It just keeps getting better and better.

To sum up the bare facts:

Riddle was 31, and not yet acknowledged as Voldemort. Maybe he wasn't? And there was this talk about the Salzburg siege- clearly he'd been involved with something that made him a suspicious character- but under his true name, not a moniker.

Grindelwald is the leading Dark Lord, and clearly successful to have broken into Gringotts and to _remain_. Harry didn't know what to make of that.

Dumbledore was acting strange. Very on-point for Dumbledore.

Harry was labeled with the last name Riddle. _Joy._

He felt like he had lived here all his life, which was odd and needed to be investigated unless... the ritualistic manner of theory worked. This was where he was most meant to be. Either way, Harry needed to find out the specifics of the spell he used to get here- time to emulate a Ravenclaw and research even more.

He was currently staying at Wool's Orphange in the summer, which was a _creepy_ coincidence.

That just about summed it all up neat and clean.

Madam Pomphrey still hadn't returned from wherever she went to get those creams, and Harry was getting more restless. The chest wound was now a dull ache, so in Gryffindor fashion he made his escape.

He turned the corner from the infirmary, checking behind him constantly. He felt like any second the nurse would return. But he rounded the corner and barreled down the stairs without anyone stopping him.

With caution though, he slid one more look backwards. In this moment, he collided with a very solid something in front of him. Harry felt his chest injury smart horribly as he tumbled to the ground on top of the poor person he had walked into.

The person had dropped their books on the floor when Harry hit them, and Harry immediately scrambled to pick them up while the person began to stand back upwards.

With the books balanced in one hand, Harry stood.

"I apologize," he said, "I hadn't been paying attention to where I was-" Harry stopped dead in his words when he made eye contact with the man he had toppled over. A very familiar man, who was eyeing him in surprise and apprehension.

His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry knew him better as Lord Voldemort.


	9. Chapter 9

**Last Chapter...**

With caution though, he slid one more look backwards. In this moment, he collided with a very solid something in front of him. Harry felt his chest injury smart horribly as he tumbled to the ground on top of the poor person he had walked into.

The person had dropped their books on the floor when Harry hit them, and Harry immediately scrambled to pick them up while the person began to stand back upwards.

With the books balanced in one hand, Harry stood.

"I apologize," he said, "I hadn't been paying attention to where I was-" Harry stopped dead in his words when he made eye contact with the man he had toppled over. A very familiar man, who was eyeing him in surprise and apprehension.

His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry knew him better as Lord Voldemort.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**The Unlikely Invitation**

Voldemort peered at him, his face betraying nothing more than a mild disgruntlement. If Harry was anyone else, he would be sure that the Dark Lord had been startled by the collision, and nothing more.

But Harry was Harry, and he could see that it was not, in fact, the accident that was bothering him. Something else was going on in the man's brain as he looked Harry over.

All Harry could hope was that he didn't draw anything from their similarities in looks- to be fair now it seemed Riddle looked different when he was a child, larger and stockier... He was no longer lean in that unhealthy I-live-in-an-Orphange way. He had filled out considerably and was a good couple of heads above Harry's small stature. His hair was the same, but his face no longer retained that gaunt look.

Harry knew it was perhaps too much to ask for, but he wanted this small mercy.

Okay, huge mercy.

Why did nothing ever go right?!

"Excuse me, for my odd posturing. You just remind of something, someone." He tilted his head. "By chance, have we met before? What's your last name? Perhaps I see a family resemblance." Tom Riddle spoke to Harry, who nearly had his mouth drop open.

Seriously?

Perhaps I see a family resemblance?

The man had to be kidding, but as far as Harry could tell he was speaking honestly. Though it was a little blunter than the Voldemort he knew. Maybe Fate was on his side for once, eh?

"No sir, we have not met before. And my family is dead." Harry answered semi-honestly. Well, he and Voldemort hadn't met in this universe.

"You are quite sure? I am often not this struck by someone's...appearance." He was genuinely thoughtful about it. Harry felt like the man was fraying his last nerve, though.

"Quite certain. I have lived in an orphanage all my life," he snapped. Then hesitantly and with a flippant tone added, "sir."

Tom Riddle's dark eyes tightened around the corners, making small wrinkles appear- whether with amusement or anger, Harry wasn't sure.

"Well, do continue on your way. You never know when an irate Healer might pop out." Harry stared at him.

"How do you-"

"You rubbed your chest in pain, and I was conversing with Dumbledore earlier about a certain first year whom had been hit with a Diffindo to the chest. A Healer would never let you go so early." Harry felt an inscrutable look pass over his own face. "Go on, I am not one to hinder you."

Hinder you? Lord, who talked like that anymore. It felt like Harry was speaking with adult Snape.

All the same, Harry continued to walk in the direction he was headed, as the man said no more. But he never heard the sound of Riddle's feet walking away and, though it could've been his imagination, he felt the prickling of staring eyes boring into his retreating back. Though at the end of the corridor when he turned around, no one was there.

Wow, Harry thought, that went surprisingly good. Now, to figure out what exactly Riddle is doing here. Great, I can add that to the list.

_The boy had been odd,_ Tom decided. He looked almost fearful- but unwavering in stance- when near Tom. He looked like he was expecting something, and Tom didn't miss the shocked expression on his face when he said he saw a family resemblance. The boy was almost incredulous. An orphan was unlikely to look like anyone in the circles Tom was in.

But why?

He wasn't lying, the kid had looked annoyingly familiar. Tom quickly noticed that the child had evaded his question successfully, he never got the boy's (Hadrian's, he believes is what Dumbledore said) last name.

He watched the boy walk away, and as he reached the other side of the hall, Tom turned to leave himself- never seeing the child turn around again to look at him apprehensively.

Heart threatening to pound out of chest, Harry kept going around the corner. His stomach growled loudly, and he was suddenly reminded by the pain in his abdomen that he hadn't eat since the Welcoming Feast.

He decided that breakfast couldn't be over yet, at most it was like eight thirty in the morning. So, he headed for the Great Hall which was bustling with the student body.

As he swept into the dining hall, the collection of Slytherin students that were there turned to eye him. In the center of the close knit group was Lucius Malfoy, with a thick look. His pointy face was nearly screwed up in thought. He turned to his gangle of lackeys and associates, then said something.

Harry was too hungry to care about another tense run in with students. He was drained, and he'd barely arrived here.

He plopped down at the Gryffindor table heavily and reached for a slice of pre-buttered toast. With relish he bit into the bread, but made sure to appear as stately as possible while doing so... The Slytherins tended to watch their prey- and this prey didn't want to look like some stupid mouse just waiting for execution from the enemies above. It was wildly uncomfortable to eat with people watching you.

"Hadrian! You alright, mate?" James was racing up to him. "Dumbledore said not to bugger the Healer lady, so we- I, Sirius and me- went back to the dorms. You all good?" He threw a worried look at Harry's chest. Just then Sirius came trotting in.

"Harry! Glad to see you out alive. Considering who that was, surprised it wasn't worse than a Cutting Curse." Sirius turned around a bit and glared in the general direction of the Slytherins. "Rodolphus Lestrange. Seventh year Slytherin, likes to dabble in Dark Arts. You're lucky, mate."

"Should have been faster," Harry said in honest sorrowfulness. "Then that idiot wouldn't have landed a hit." James and Sirius slid into the seats across from him with expressions of disbelief.

"Harry, that was not your fault. Lestrange is a git." James said through a mouthful of waffle.

"Yeah, what Jamie said." Sirius said while hungrily eyeing a towering pile of pancakes. "He's making off with my cousin, last I heard. She's been off since my Uncle passed though." James stopped chewing for a second.

"What did you just call me?" But he still had food in his mouth, so it sounded more like, "Wa do jah urst all mwah?" All the same, Sirius answered.

"Jamie." James swallowed deeply and choked a bit. Sirius pounded on his back while he tried to gulp pumpkin juice.

"I don't like it."

"Too bad, Jamie."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, I won't call you that."

"Good."

"I'll call you Jamie."

"What?! No!"

"What isn't there to like?"

"Everything."

"Harsh, Jamie."

"Are you being serious? Just let it go. It's a horrible nickname. Like a girl or something. I sound like a girl-"

"Of course I'm being Sirius, who else would you want me to be?"

"That is the worst joke I have ever had the pleasure of hearing! This-"

Harry smiled faintly at the two boys' antics, and began to tune them out in favor of chewing more peacefully at his toast.

Then something strange happened. As Harry reached an arm out to get an apple, another hand from behind him snatched it away- to just hand it to him.

Harry turned, and found himself face to face with Malfoy.

"Wandless. Wordless." The Slytherin stated, still holding out the apple. "A first year. Assuming from the surname, muggle born. Assuming, of course. Who exactly are you?" The tone was altogether pleasant and genuine. A bit confused perhaps. It was clear from the first two words he was talking about the trunks incident.

Harry gently plucked the apple from Malfoy's hands. The blond looked down in surprise, he seemed to have forgotten the fruit was there.

"I do believe I'll be studying today again. I'll need my peace and quiet, and I'll find it in the same spot as before." Malfoy's eyes widened in recognition, he had obviously heard of what Harry said to that questioning seventh year in the Slytherin dorm earlier that morning.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Now I ask a favor." Harry was surprised again by this second year, he was very forward. No subtlety lay in his words, but also considerably less derision. They had gotten off on the wrong foot, sure, but Harry would hold to it that Malfoy was the instigator. "May you eat with the Slytherins for lunch? Professor Slughorn is very excited to promote House Unity, and he specifically used you as an example. We all look forward to getting to know you."

Once again there was an underlying honesty. And that was a bit scary, the Slytherins honestly wanted to get to know him. He knew the wordless and wand less magic was a risk, but he'd hoped they would chalk it up to a trick, or use their prejudice to scoff at it.

But, clearly, they weren't as stupid as their yet-to-be children.

"Yes, I do accept your most generous... offer. I, also, look forward to getting to know all of you." Malfoy half smiled, dipped his head, then walked away, as unnoticeably as he came over. Harry chewed more violently into his toast.

"It was delish, if you honestly want to know!"

"This is completely off topic!"

"You asked, I answered, Jamie."

"If this continues, you're gonna find your wand in the morning when you wake up where the sun don't shine."

"We can improvise."

"Go on, then. Give me your best."

"J-man? Jama? Jamesie? James-a-nator? Jam? Jim? Make a decision, Potter!"

"How about...JAMES?!" Sirius rolled his eyes and broke away from their argument suddenly, to address Harry.

"Was that Malfoy again? What did he want?" Harry contained a grin, it was adorable how wrapped up in their fight the boys were not to notice a conversation two feet away.

"Oh, nothing. Just being a bother," Harry said, "same old, same old." He bit into the apple with a crunch, wondering how the two other Gryffindors would take to him sitting with the Slytherins at lunch. "I'm not starting anything, don't worry." James laughed.

"We'll take the smug bastard down a peg. Throw a snake at him, why not?" and Sirius laughed at that.

Oh, well. Hopefully they wouldn't have to duel it out one day.

Not to mention, Harry's lengthy to-do list. That was gonna take some time- and maybe an Invisibilty Cloak. Or a Map. Who knows?


	10. Chapter 10

**Last Chapter...**

"It was delicious, if you honestly want to know..."

"This is completely off topic!"

"You asked, I answered, Jamie."

"If this continues, you're gonna find your wand in the morning when you wake up where the sun don't shine."

"We can improvise."

"Go on, then. Give me your best."

"J-man? Jama? Jamesie? James-a-nator? Jam? Jim? Make a decision, Potter!"

"How about...JAMES?!" Sirius rolled his eyes and broke away from their argument suddenly, to address Harry.

"Was that Malfoy again? What did he want?" Harry contained a grin, it was adorable how wrapped up in their fight the boys were not to notice a conversation two feet away.

"Oh, nothing. Just being a bother," Harry said, "same old, same old." He bit into the apple with a crunch, wondering how the two other Gryffindors would take to him sitting with the Slytherins at lunch.

Oh, well.

Not to mention, Harry's lengthy to-do list. That was gonna take some time- and maybe an Invisibilty Cloak. Or a Map. Who knows?

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**I Spy With My Little Eye... Another Spy?!**

Harry should have know better.

It couldn't have just been an ordinary affair.

Oh no, that was too plebeian for the great Slytherin house.

It needed to be a production, a big show, a posturing event.

Which is exactly what got him into this mess, he made a spectacle of Malfoy, because he was a prick, and Harry wasn't so forgiving of the Malfoy he had known in the original timeline.

Why, oh why, did he agree to this again?

Harry thought back to the happenings right after breakfast when he had first accepted Malfoy's lunch invitation.

Better known as the happenings before everything went downhill.

It hadn't seemed that dramatic at the time...

* * *

"So, say we check out that passageway again? See what the path down leads to, eh?" James nudged Harry's shoulder with an exaggerated wink, as they walked out of and away from the Great Hall.

Harry grinned half heartedly in return.

"James, do you even know how to find that passage again?"

"You are a dream crusher."

"Dramatic much?"

"Crusher. Of dreams."

"Jamie, chill-ax. It's all good, great, fantastic." Drawled Sirius. James' left eyebrow twitched at use of Sirius' nickname for him. Harry watched the two begin to bicker again, and drifted into thought.

How was he going to tell the two that he was eating with the snakes at lunch? To be very fair, they had taken the Parseltongue extremely well- but this may be the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I thought it was a hinkypunk or a cow, how was I supposed to know that-"

"Wait, how can you mix up a hinkypunk or a cow with-"

"You weren't there! It looked suspicious at the time, considering that there was more than one of them!"

"Still weird as a one-legged, tutu wearing, Grindelwald birthing Merlin. With a cat fetish."

"Jamie, I'm telling you- wait. Grindelwald birthing?"

"Yep."

"That crosses a significant line."

"It really does."

"It disturbs me." Sirius said in wonder.

"I bet so." James smirked.

"Say it again!"

"A one-legged, tutu wearing, Grindelwald birthing-"

"Hey, guys?" Harry stopped the conversation of James and Sirius from its disturbing fall into a deep, dark rabbit hole. "How would you feel..." Now his dorm mates' eyes were on him. "IfIsatwiththeSlytherinsatlunchbecauseLuciusMalfoyaskedmeto-" He took a breath. "BecauseSlughornwantstopromoteHouseUnityand-" Another breath. "Ihappenedtobeintheircommonroomthismorningcausethingshappenpleasedon'tjudgeme-" Deeper breath. "Would you mind?"

A moment of silence.

"What did you say?" James asked, scrunching up his face, while Sirius simultaneously said,

"I don't know what's happening right now."

Harry grimaced.

"If I sat with the Slytherins at lunch because Lucius Malfoy asked me to, because Slughorn wants to promote house unity, would you mind?" Harry decided to not re-mention that he has been in the Slytherin common room. No knowing what problems that could cause.

"I don't mind, I guess, if the teacher wants you to do it and all. But, I mean, you're Muggleborn and grew up in an Orphange, why you?" Sirius wondered aloud. James nodded along.

"Dunno," Harry said shrugging and containing his internal glee at Sirius' acceptance. The Maruaders' leaders were much more lenient in their earlier years at Hogwarts in regard to Slytherin house.

"Wait, you're a Muggleborn!" James exclaimed.

"Uh yeah, have _you_ heard of the Riddle pure blood family?" Sirius said in a condescending, exaggerated voice, hands on his hips to emphasize his point. Harry nearly jumped when Sirius said 'Riddle'. Seems like he had forgotten again that _he_ was 'Riddle'.

"No, just wondering how a Muggleborn would know about quidditch and the quidditch national teams and have the ability to watch the national games." James said. Sirius glared at him and huffed.

"He wouldn't, stupid."

"But he did say so- on the train. I was talking about quidditch and asked what his favorite team was, and he answered. We talked a bit about it, and Hadrian knew what he was talking about." Harry swallowed slightly. Looking at the shrewd gleam of interest glistening in James' eye, he now realized that this was the shred of James that would be his adult self one day.

Careful, catching little details, and one of the best Aurors that the Ministry had ever had in ranks.

"I did some reading up on the Wizarding World- you know, new world, wanting to explore, all that. Quidditch seemed real interesting, and I did a little extra research on it. Flying sounds amazing."

And like that, the gleam was gone.

"We'll get you a chance to try out a broom soon Harry- a nice one too. I gotta Fulgurs 300- Fulgur means lightning in original Latin. That means super fucking fast!" James grinned excitedly and squirmed about like he tended to do when happy, Harry noticed.

"Sounds great!" Harry replied, not faking the enthusiasm. He hadn't gone flying in a long time- too long.

"Hey, just try and ignore Bellatrix, okay? At your lunch thing? She's been in a horrid mood since Saturday. She's the one with the frizzy hair and deranged eyes. And remember, I can't help whom I'm related to." Sirius said sheepishly.

"Sirius, she wouldn't have been in a horrid mood, if you hadn't gone and-" James was interrupted.

"She deserved it! It was just a joke. No harm done, Merlin relax." James still looked at Sirius with one questioning eyebrow raised.

"What exactly did you do?" Harry asked, both worried and intrigued by the answer.

"I dyed her hair. HARMLESS." Here Sirius looked pointedly at James.

"Then you jinxed her shoes to tap dance until she apologized for calling you a blood traitor. Which, was a rather impressive piece of magic, my friend-"

"Why thank you, James." Sirius cut in with a smirk.

"But she still didn't apologize, she just undid the jinx and then proceeded to attempt to hex our bits off. Not cool, Sirius. Not. Cool." James shifted unhappily as if remembering the occurrence. Harry frowned.

"When did this happen?" Sirius shrugged carelessly.

"Saturday. After lunch. Y'know, the day you basically slept through?" Harry's frown receded, but he did wonder if he had missed anything else noteworthy during his hibernation.

"Passageway, Harry, come on?" James' mind had gone back to the beginning of their conversation. "It would be _fun_ ," he practically whined.

"James, we've talked about this. Do you know how to make the passageway reappear?"

"Well- no."

"So how would you get into a passage you can't open?"

"I wouldn't," he said with a pouty voice and a scuffle of his toes.

"Exactly," Harry huffed, but he was smiling.

The three walked in a companionable chatter through the mostly empty halls. There was the occasional upper year rushing by in a frantic hurry, or a lost first year bumbling down the hall and craning their neck around as if that would help them gain direction. Or the rare group like themselves, just walking and talking and enjoying the Hogwarts of a mid-morning Sunday.

"Mr. Riddle," A stern voice with clipped words called out from behind. Sirius and James stiffened at the authoritative tone, but Harry smiled serenely. He recognized after many years that that voice was _meant_ to be frightening. 'Keeps them in line', McGonagall used to say, then smiled with stern lips at Harry. But that was a different McGonagall- then that McGonagall he once knew.

This one barely knew him, and was calling for him by an incorrect last name. Not that she knew that, of course.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" He said smoothly and calmly while turning around to face her.

"Your History Professor would like to have a word with you, Mr. Riddle. In his office. If you'll follow me now, I will be taking you there."

Sirius and James looked awed.

"Second day here and you're already in trouble with a class we haven't had." Sirius whispered.

"You're my role model, did I ever tell you that?" James put in with a dazed look on his face.

"Mr. Riddle." Professor McGonagall repeated. Harry said a quick goodbye to James and Sirius, then hurried to follow his Head of House. Before they had gotten far though, a silver Phoenix swooped down on them. It seemed to convey something to Professor McGonagall, then suddenly she and Harry were walking a different direction.

"It seems we will be meeting my colleague, in Professor Slughorn's office. It is closer, and where your History of Magic Professor currently is." A Patronus, that's what the silvery magical bird was, Harry realized. Probably Dumbledore's. It had told McGonagall to go elsewhere, just then.

So with a purposeful march, the two headed for the dungeons.

"Minerva! Jolly good to see you, here visiting my humble abode!" Slughorn boomed with cheer, waving a hand wildly to usher them inside. "Would you like a cup of tea? Something, perhaps, stronger?" He said mischievously. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't decide if the man was joking or not. If not, it was certainly not an appropriate thing to be mentioning around a student- first year no less.

From the look on McGonagall's face, she agreed.

"I am quite alright, Horace." Before she could say more, maybe even reprimand Slughorn for his misplaced sense of humor, an auburn head of hair with large silver streaks strode into the office.

"Ah, I see you could manage to join us, Minerva. Tea, by any chance?" Harry was a bit offended that, despite the fact he was the one Dumbldore had summoned, not a single adult had yet taken account of his presence, much less had spared time to address him.

Sure, not like the student is an actual person or anything.

Only after a meaningless few minutes of chatter, in which they proceeded to Slughorn's private parlor room (draped in deep greens and soft grays) and ended up calling a house elf for some earl grey, Dumbledore finally set his periwinkle eyes on Harry.

"Mr. Riddle, no need to look just so tense- I assure you, you are in no trouble. This was merely a call of curiosity." Harry forced himself to unwind a bit, and placed a gentle expression of relaxation on his face. Honestly he had been expecting to be in some sort of trouble, Dumbledore was not wrong.

"Curiousity, sir?" Also, why on earth was Dumbledore a History of Magic Professor? Downright baffling. He somewhat recalled that the old Headmaster had once taught defense, or charms or something, he couldn't quite remember anymore. But History- just seemed so- boring.

"I was chatting with Professor Slughorn here, and he mentioned the most fascinating story. It seems someone ended up in the wrong common room, last night." Harry nearly face palmed, of course Slughorn would tattle to Dumbledore. The man wasn't as nearly as stupid as Harry liked to think he was, and he was a horrid gossip.

"Well sir, I did actually find my way to Gryffindor the other night, but in the morning decided Gryffindor is a very, um, _loud_ house. I wanted to have some peaceful reading time, and found myself in the dungeons." He looked up at McGonagall, but she hadn't reacted. He cleared his throat and continued. "I happened across the Sytherin portrait hole, and was messing around trying to guess what the password could be. It was really on chance, that I ended up getting it right, so I thought might as well go in. Sorry," he said, looking at Slughorn. "I found it very peaceful for some reading, and had planned to stay for only a little bit, but a fellow first year came down and caught me. So, I stayed longer considering I was already seen."

The three teachers looked at him, with what looked like understanding at the 'innocent' tone he used. Harry knew this was a weird situation but surely it can't be that big of a rule break. Only McGonagall looked a bit unhappy with the depiction of her House, but let it be.

"You know," he added, for a sweet touch, "I really hate the stigma everyone seems to plaster to Slytherin house. An entire house cannot just be bad. It's like saying, 'oh you're in Slytherin? You must be an, excuse my language, a total twat!' It's ridiculous."

"Indeed, Mr. Riddle. Indeed." Dumbledore murmured appreciatively. "Well, we have taken up more than enough of your time. Please, go. Join your friends. I'm sure they're quite worried about you. This was just a little check in, that nothing untoward is happening in Gryffindor Tower." He peered over his glasses at Harry. "If you are feeling _unsafe_ in the Tower-"

"Oh no, sir!" Harry exclaimed. "Not at all, I- no."

"Well, Harry, that concludes our little talk then, but if you like to finish your tea you may, and go rejoin your classmates."

Harry nodded his head and simply stood, and let Slughorn escort him out.

He stepped into the hall once more, fully intending to find his friends, but never got the chance. One Lucius Malfoy had slid out from the shadows, as he came out of Slughorn's office.

"Hello," he greeted politely. It seemed the boy was trying not to ressurrect the ill will between them.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said as neutrally as possible.

"Studying anytime soon?" Harry just then remembered what he had said to the boy in the hall.

"Going to study, right now, actually."

"Good. I'll walk with you." When they got to the Slytherin common room entrance, his 'study' area, Harry was extremely grateful to every deity that Malfoy said the password, because he honestly hadn't known it. And Harry preferred his methods of traveling the castle to be kept a secret.

"So." Malfoy drawled, once they were both seated by the fire. He completely ignored the rest of the House, which was watching out of corners of their eyes. Harry fought the urge to roll his, they weren't shy at all. "How did you do it? What little trick or game did you use to accomplish something that, ordinarily, is extremely... difficult." Harry smiled.

"Magic."

"Well, obviously, but what kind?"

"My... magic. Not a way to explain it." Harry shrugged. Malfoy looked like he would ask again, but then he decided against it. He also gave Harry an oddly appreciative once over.

"Well, Hadrian Riddle, I am glad you will be joining us for lunch." Harry was impressed, Malfoy almost sounded sincere when he finally spoke again. That took some serious skill, considering the boy was tended to look constantly disgusted. The rest of the common room didn't seem so surprised when this information was announced- they must've already known somehow.

"As am I, Lucius Malfoy." Harry stood as calmly as he could manage, every movement fluent. He spared Malfoy a small smile. "Until then, Slytherin house." With that he left the snakes' pit, done with with the dull interrogation- only to hiss to a nearby wall. The secret passageway slid open, and Harry smirked to himself. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, _I still got it._

This passage was one that connected to the hole behind the painting that hung above the Slytherin common room. Perfect for entering their common room, and also for spying. Harry knew the real conversation would start as soon as he left.

He leaned against the portrait, and listened attentively.

"I don't like this," Someone muttered angrily, "a Gryffindor and a mudblood. What in the Dark Lord's name are you thinking, Malfoy?"

"Don't use Lord Voldemort's title so crassly," Malfoy hissed. Harry had his suspicions confirmed. Tom Riddle was still a Dark Lord here. And had influence in the school... That was worrying. "Besides, Slughorn took a liking to him immeadiately. Not to mention his power-" The other boy scoffed.

"You mean the trick he played on you and a couple other of your friends? A trick and nothing else."

"He did it," Malfoy insisted. "If you don't take the luggage incident as proof, then I must ask how you don't feel it."

"Feel what?"

"This- this _aura_. So _strong_ and- oh, indescribable." Malfoy's voice had taken on a breathless quality. "Besides, I don't think he's a mudblood. Did you notice how he reacted when they called his name for the hat? It took him a minute to realize they were calling him." Silence followed that. "I think he's hiding something, at the very least. Anyway, for a Gryffindor he acts very proper. Befitting of the better house."

"On your head, Malfoy. If He hears of us associating with those below us, who knows what our punishments would be." Harry heard another boy speak up.

"Someone talks back to you, and your pride is so wounded you have to stalk their every move? Don't you think you're being a bit thick right now?" A girl was speaking now.

"Our fathers, our mothers, our cause, how will associating with mudbloods make us look?"

"Don't whine, He won't know. Yet."

"Oh, dear Lord, tell me you're not planning to get him involved."

"I'm telling you. That power..." Malfoy trailed off.

"Whatever. It's going to take more than a cheap trick to win over my favor."

"Guys," a shrill voice suddenly said, "isn't that shipment coming today? Honeydukes, right?"

"Yeah." someone else piped up. "Macnair is gonna grab it, I heard. The Lord'll be pleased." Harry thought to himself. _Macnair... he had seen him at the Feast. Tall, muscled build, Fifth year._

_What shipment? Of what? And what would the Dark Lord want of it? Well, it can't be anything good. Not if teen students are involved._

Harry then smirked. What good would sitting around and wondering do? If he wanted to see what that shipment was, he would have to go look himself. The teen headed for the humpbacked witch statue, ready to start his first true adventure.

"Dissendium," he whispered and tapped his wand to its hump.

He then slipped into the passage swiftly, never noticing the pair of shocked eyes that were pinned on his every move. As he darted down the earthen tunnel, he also never noticed when someone else dropped into the passage with him and began to silently follow, eyes still burning into his back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Last Chapter...**

Harry then smirked. What good would sitting around and wondering do? If he wanted to see what that shipment was, he would have to go look himself. The teen headed for the humpbacked witch statue, ready to start his first true adventure.

"Dissendium," he whispered and tapped his wand to its hump.

He then slipped into the passage swiftly, never noticing the pair of shocked eyes that were pinned on his every move. As he darted down the earthen tunnel, he also never noticed when someone else dropped into the passage with him and began to silently follow, eyes still burning into his back.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Hadrian Riddle**

The Honeydukes' passageway seemed longer than ever before, and much larger. Every step he took seemed to echo forever, ominous and hollow. But, he eventually came to a set of steps and a trapdoor, and he slid out into the sweetshop cellar.

His pursuer followed after a minute's deliberation and was shocked to find the bottom level of Honeydukes. A second more passed before a sly grin came over the pursuer's face. Not that Harry ever saw. He was still oblivious to anyone else's presence in the room.

Harry whipped out his wand and waved it toward the ceiling of the cellar, muttering words under his breath in rapid succession. Then he sat down a nearby crate, and leaned his head against the wall. When he shut his eyes, it was clear to the pursuer that Hadrian wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

After waiting a moment, Harry's little follower decided to leave by going up the stairs to the Honeydukes shop. He didn't see Harry tense at the slight shuffling sound made when he began to walk towards the stairs. So while stealthily making his way to the staircase, he was not proud to admit he nearly jumped out of his Disillusionment when he heard-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The pursuer spun around, and cocked a brow at the now wide-open brilliant green eyes. Then he remembered as he saw the unfocused way the boy stared at him, that the kid couldn't see him still because of the disillusionment. "The manager is currently standing directly at the door leading down here. He's not moving anytime soon either." He decided to humor the solemn child.

"How do you know that? And more importantly, how did you know I was here?"

"I heard him walk over to the door." The pursuer realized the spell the boy first cast at the ceiling most likely had been one to help him hear through the floorboards to see if anyone was coming. How... advanced for a first year. The boy now continued to talk. "As for knowing you were here, well, it was a combination of things." The boy shrugged carelessly. "When you walk, you make a slight scuffle with your feet. I'm assuming, childhood habit. Not to mention your magic, it reeks. Very... strong, I would be able to feel it from a mile away. I hadn't earlier because I was so focused, and thinking- distracted suffice to say."

"I've heard many things in my day, but feeling someone's magic? Not one of them. And how would you infer the scuffle my feet made to be a childhood-induced habit?"

"The same way I can tell you're a military man, sophisticated, somewhat high in society, but not particularly wealthy. Or at least, not used to having money. New money? The same way I can tell you have no living family, and that you're clenching your jaw right this minute. And just because you haven't heard of something doesn't make it any less real. Your magic is oppressing, heavy. Swirling around in you like that, because there's so much of it trapped and it doesn't know where to go."

"Odd trick to know, boy." Tom , the pursuer, said finally. The boy, ever so imperceptibly, stiffened. But Tom Riddle still caught it and drew his own conclusions. This first year was turning out to be quite interesting. "Don't like being called that, do you?" A infinitesimal moment of silence permeated the air before-

"I don't know. Don't really care." The tone was void, almost frosty. Before it had been almost normal, while addressing Tom. Strangely enough, Tom found himself preferring the amusement over this. Such a solemn, odd child.

"What is your name, then?"

"Hadrian." _Aha, I did remember his name correctly,_ Tom thought. Before Tom could demand a last name from the withholding child, it said to him,

"Are you a professor, like Dumbledore or what? Come to see which kids will cause the most mischief this year? Is that why you followed me?" The words were supposed to be taken in light banter, but he could seen beneath the false smile the want for an answer. Smart. Cute trick, try to play the adult into believing you're just asking a harmless question.

"I'm not a friend of Dumbledore's." Tom replied, using the same trick as Hadrian just to annoy the child. Sure enough-

"That's not what I asked, I asked if you were a professor."

"Is that not the same thing?" Tom continued with his charade.

"Grindlewald is an associate of Dumbledore's. They are not friends, but are associates. You're not a professor, you could be a dark wizard trying to break in!"

"Hardly," Tom returned. 

"I suppose 'lovers' isn't really just associates, no. " Tom blinked slowly.

"How would you know- how _possibly-_ where did you _learn_ this?" Tom demanded.

"I have my ways," Hadrian said mysteriously. "And... the right information is always good to have. Knowledge is power, whatnot." The boy seemed more comfortable with Tom's incredulous voice. Tom was glad for it, the child's attitude from a second before had been eerie. The void voice, had unnerved him. He had also noticed how the boy hesitated on the word information, Tom would bet his wand that the child thought 'blackmail'. Filing away the Dumbldore/Grindelwald bullshit story for later, Tom moved on.

"You never did tell me your last name, child. We can exchange?"

"Shhh!" The boy, Hadrian, fluidly rose to his feet. He swiftly made for a dark corner of the cellar. "Do yourself a favor, and stay hidden." The child's voice was tense and more eager, whether or not he realized it.

Lord Voldemort was most certainly intrigued- the first year whom had already been involved in a fight with two seventh years had snuck out of the school through a passageway he couldn't possibly know about after two days at Hogwarts to do- what, exactly? He was sure there was more to this story.

This was confirmed when one of his prize death eaters clomped down the stairs with the manager of Honeydukes following closely behind. Macnair, last he checked, was supposed to be in a different country for another month on business with the Bulgarian Ministry. What was one of his inner circle doing in the Honeydukes cellar? He recalled Macnair's son was still in school, but this hardly looked like a family visit. He had Macnair's boy- Warlden?- tasked to the collection of books for perusal of other students of the Dark families from Hogsmeade monthly. It fostered a good link to the families, and kept Tom ever linked to Hogwarts. But if his inner clock was correct- and he couldn't see why not it always had been- the last shipment had been less than a week ago. Yet here was Macnair's father, his old schoolmate, his gruesome death eater. 

Tom didn't like being out of the loop, not at all.

"Do you have them?" The manager nodded fervently.

"Every last trace. All right here." The manager patted the crate Hadrian had been sitting on. Macnair smiled. It was a sick parody.

"Fantastic," he breathed out.

"M-my payment." The manager stood straight despite his slight stutter.

"You live," said Macnair in his gruff voice. The seedy shopman shuffled about in a fluttery, nervous manner.

"Now, see here-" The manager was cut off with a flash of green sickly light. Macnair laughed, and it was a deep, booming thing. Tom knew it was nothing more than a sleep spell, mimicking the electric green of the Killing Curse, but likely the child didn't know the Unforgivable could only be cast with incantation.

"Now you don't," he said once the guffaws had subsided into chuckles. Before Macnair could grab the crate or even move however, he froze quite literally, then dropped like a rock to the ground. Hadrian now stood revealed behind him, wand in the air, and eyes shining.

Tom couldn't help it. He looked in those eyes and saw the Killing Curse shining back at him. The boy pocketed his wand, and knocked the lid off the crate. He rooted through it, sending some official-looking papers flying.

"You have got to be kidding me," Tom heard him hiss under his breath. The boy grabbed a stack of the papers, and disregarded the rest.

"Care to share?" Tom called out. Then suddenly, in between blinks, the boy vanished. Tom's question hung in the air unanswered.

* * *

Hadrian was racing down the passageway, invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He was stupid not to wear it before going to Hogsmeade. How did he not think of the possibility of someone seeing him?

* * *

Tom, instead of finding any answers, was currently drowning in more questions. He cast a look of disgust at his death eater, who still laid there on the floor, incapacitated by a little boy, while stepping over the now lightly-snoring shopkeeper. He had so many questions...

It didn't help that he now realized that when the boy had hissed under his breath, it had been in Parseltongue, those words.

A possible descendant of Slytherin? Dumbledore had assured him there were no others. But, by now, he should have realized the man was not to be trusted on his word on anything. And although it's a manageable risk to have the children of his believers play fetch for him, Tom feels it absurd that such a simple retrieve is thwart able by a first year.

Speaks not well of the Macnair name. He gave those of his with Hogwarts-age children little directions out, and passed them down to the teens, giving them a sense of purpose and connection to the movement. But maybe such a program was not worth it if a _first year_ could intercept. Or if it meant that the boy's father, Macnair's, was plotting his own little schemes with his puny mind. Something was certainly afoot. Familiar anger rushed through Tom, his boredom's only true companion.

Tom brushed off invisible lint from his cloak, and decided it was time for his new pet project.

Find out where this child came from. Pronto.

Time to pay Dumbledore another delightful visit, it looked like. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Last Chapter…**

_Tom, instead of finding any answers, was currently drowning in more questions._

_It didn't help that he now realized when the child had hissed under his breath, those few words had been in Parseltongue._

_A possible descendant of Slytherin? Dumbledore had assured him there were no others. But, by now, he should know that man was not to be trusted on his word on anything he relayed to Tom._

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Hadrian Riddle?**

So when the students spoke of Macnair receiving the package at Honeydukes they had not meant the fifth year, but his father? Whom, most likely, is one of Voldemort's loyal followers at the moment. It perhaps was not the smartest idea to provoke Tom Riddle's interest at any point in your life, but Harry had stood there and his mind rebelled against playing meek in front of this dangerous man. He did not want to be seen as a child that gave no threat.He knew the voice, he knew it was _him._ Harry was sure, _h_ _e_ was there too, maybe to watch what Macnair was up to.

His reaction and bantering with the cruel monster that was masquerading in the deceivingly attractive Tom Riddle- was not perhaps the smartest idea, but he could not help himself. He knew he would regret it later, but something in him jumps to the frontlines with that man. He can't hold back with the Dark Lord. But if he wants to hold his own ( _feel that adrenaline like before)_ , Harry will have to be patient and better composed than what had just occurred in the cellar.

Hadrian glanced down at the parchments he held.

The question is, why was Macnair collecting information on Hadrian? Tom Riddle seemed completely uninterested, and vaguely dismissive of him, and Harry thought he was fairly decent at tells.

A picture of Hadrian sat on the first page, sullen and with cold eyes. It looked to be his orphanage photo, the mandatory yearly photo each child had taken to be put in the adoption listings. When Hadrian first saw that photo, he quickly scanned through the box and grabbed anything pertaining to himself. It was all neatly put together in order. The rest of the box seemed to be old newspaper clippings, and at the moment were not important to Harry's eyes. He coudln't understand their relevance.

As he raced along the dirt tunnel, invisibility cloak flying behind him, he vowed to read these in the safety and privacy of his bed that night. Maybe they would reveal something of true importance.

He had no idea how messed up things were about to get.

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore hummed to himself as he headed to his office. Only the second day back and there were so many things in the works. His tune stilled when he eyed the open door to the History of Magic office. Someone had beat him to his office.

As he walked through his doorway he was met with the sight of an irate Tom Riddle, sitting in his plush high-backed chair and twirling his wand in one hand. When he saw the Professor, his hand snapped closed around the wand and slid it with the fluidity of a snake into his pocket.

"Hello, Albus." He said softly. And that was how the Professor knew that Tom was upset with him, the soft -but dangerous- tone spoke volumes. "Please have a seat." Ignoring how this was his office, and if anything he should be the one inviting Tom in, Albus sat down in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. Tom had always been rude, that was nothing new. Even as a student walking these halls, he had been so very entitled. Albus secretly chalked it up to a coping mechanism for having nothing and, well, _being_ nothing, in the eyes of his peers for so many years in that orphanage.

"Is he alright?" Albus was jerked out of his thoughts, by a sharp question from a sharper man.

"Who, Tom?"

"Hadrian," Tom stated, and Albus froze inside. "The boy who was hit by a Diffindo. Is he alright? I wonder how you are dealing with such violence in the walls of Hogwarts." Tom's voice dripped with false sympathy to match a concerned turn of the lips. Albus' heart started once more- if Tom knew, then this conversation would already be going so very differently.

"He is quite well. It is lovely to see you so invested in the health of our treasured students," he said with a genial smile.

Tom had to withold a grimace. He leaned forward to rest his folded hands on the mahogany desk. Good quality desk, he thought distractedly. Even that managed to set him off more. Being in Dumbledore's presence made everything irritating,

"It has come to my attention this young man has an ability, I confess myself confused on the origins of. I believe you had told me, that I had no living relatives?" Tom's eyes narrowed when he saw Dumbledore pose to respond, and continued on before he could. "And do not give me false reassurances old man, the Parseltongue gift is a Slytherin bloodline specific talent. How? Where are the boys parents?" Albus outwardly sighed to stall for a precious second of time.

He needed to do this very carefully.

Tom could not be suspicious.

"Hadrian's parents are dead, Tom, and he lives in London in a home for boys. As far as I know he has no relation to the Slytherin family line."

"Then can you explain away for me his Parseltongue abilities?"

"Perhaps your imagination has-"

"I am not a first year student, eyes wide and mind underdeveloped- do not play me for a fool. I want a name." Tom's rich brown eyes glinted sanguine to highlight his displeasure. Dumbledore wanted to scream but he had better self control. Already playing cards he had hoped not to yet in this game- what had sparked Tom's interest in the child? When did he see the child speak their tongue? He once again felt the urge to yell out in frustration- but for this to work, he needed to look calm.

"Hadrian Riddle." Silence hung heavy in the room. Like the eye of the storm, Albus could see the other side of the hurricane coming closer and closer until it would bear down upon him like the dogs of hell.

"Tell me," Tom pronounced slowly as if trying to find the right words, "that is a joke, Albus." Albus wanted to smile it all away and say yes, but he could already see the cogs working in Tom's head. He couldn't play denial any more. He had to defuse the, what do the muggles say? The bomb? He had to defuse _the bomb_ that was Tom Riddle's mind jumping to conclusions. Probably true conclusions, like how Hadrian is his son, but Albus had dissuade such notions. Albus had dreamed Tom would never even hear the boy's name, but it was better this way- having Dumbledore lead Tom in the 'right' direction instead of Tom investigating on his own.

"Tom, this is far less complicated than it seems."

"You-" Tom's words were still slow and had weight behind them. "Do explain then, for you have captured my- attention."

* * *

Hadrian knew it would be pointless to try and find Sirius and James at this point, they could be anywhere. He did however feel a little guilty for blowing them off without thinking by first going with Malfoy to the Slytherin common room then investigating Macnair. Come to think of it, he wouldn't even get to speak with them at lunch since he was seated with the Slytherins. Unless...

Oh, Hadrian was so cruel.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah, Sirius," James sighed in resignation. He had gave up on fighting the nickname.

"Do you think Veers expelled Hadrian?" Sirius looked fairly concerned.

"No, he hasn't done anything." But in the back of James' mind nagged the memory of a boy falling through a hole into his compartment. Why did he have to do that? Harry might have said it was a prank, but thinking on it now James saw that didn't really explain anything.

What if Harry was some kind of boy-on-the-run? Is Headmaster Veers going to expell him? But a calming thought came to him, Headmaster Veers was in a conference for the International Confederation of Wizards all weekend. That means the History of Magic professor, Mr. Dumbledore, would be in charge as deputy headmaster. He was so nice, surely he wouldn't expell Harry? He was just doing his job. Stupid Malfoy, stupid common rooms, and stupid snakes in the castle.

Sirius bit his lip in thought. He had only known Hadrian for a little while, but he already missed him. He felt a need to be close to him and make him smile all the time. Sirius liked when Hadrian laughed, and wanted him to laugh at all of his jokes. Sirius knew he was very good at jokes, something his mother often berated him for. He could even get solemn Regulus to crack a smile on a good day.

He flushed in remembrance of the embarrassing lake incident. He can't believe he got his robes choked around Hadrian like a vice, and he thought the boy he had met moments ago would be very angry- but Hadrian just laughed.

He was so clever with magic and nice and even though he spoke Parseltongue he was not like Sirius' family at all. And...he had really nice eyes. And he had one of those regal faces you remember, with slightly wavy hair and his cheekbones were so pretty...

Not that Sirius cared or anything, but it was true.

Everything about Hadrian was nice.

So he really hoped Hadrian wasn't in trouble.

Lunch wouldn't officially start for fifteen minutes, but Harry already sat himself at the Slytherin table with a propped open book. He sat there, and re-read the introduction chapter on Defense Against the Dark Arts: The Futility and Necessity. It was the book assigned by this year's professor: Professor Beaumont.

_The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a nieck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. The Dark Arts refer to any type of magic used to harm, control, or even kill the victim..._

_Dark Arts encompass a large range of magicks from the Unforgivables- to brewing harmful or poisonous potions- to breeding Dark creatures- and its practice is illegal in any situational excuse...practitioners are referred to as Dark wizards or witches...they are a malevolent people with intentions so cruel we can do nothing but fight, as there is no reasoning with these people...Regardless of the risk and their re-growing heads! together we must fight this monster, this Dark, unto our very deathbeds..._

Well, Harry thought, this year's class will be interesting. This guy is obviously a firm hater of the Dark Arts, and Harry had been a semi-practitioner himself- not that the professor would know that. Harry glanced again at the open book with mild disgust showing on his face. A year or so ago he would have agreed with that dry, close-minded writer. But now that he understood the true risk of the Dark Arts, which was addiction, he saw that with proper care and diligence it can be a healthy practice- especially with a Dark core like Harry's.

"Enjoying the book? I personally did," A lilting, feminine voice said from behind him. He slowly turned around as not to show his surprise at being snuck on up (he was never snuck up on, he did the sneaking!), and was met with the sight of a rather petite but beautiful woman. She had hair like hollow gold in an attractive thirties fingerwave, and a supple frame. Her eyes were a dark, dark blue unlike Dumbledore's light and clear ones that stuck out upon her stark white skin.

She had on a white blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt that matched her eyes and fell to just under her knees. Her cloak was also that odd blue, fastened around her neck with a clasp and no sleeves. And her nails caught his eye- painted white as her blouse.

So this one was a sucker for matching order, he could tell.

Harry could also easily admit she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, right up there with Fleur Delacour. In fact this girl had a timeless quality to her that the vain but good-hearted Fleur could never pull off. She looked to be around twenty, but could easily be anywhere from eighteen to thirty-five.

"Fascinating," he said. "um, for class," he finished lamely.

"Good!" She smiled wide and gracefully fell back to sit next to him, her hands folded in her laps and a leg crossed over the other. "My name is Athena, may I ask yours?" She tilted her head inquistively and kept smiling. Harry was unnerved by her sunny disposition, but he was sitting in the Great Hall. What could go wrong?

"Hadrian, ma'am." The lady... _Athena_ , lept to her feet just as gracefully as she had sat and clapped her hands together.

"Splendid! Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I must be off now..." Athena trailed off, smile sliding off her face, before perking up again like a marionette told to dance. Then she whispered, "It's bollocks," before gliding off with her cloak flowing behind her.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the meeting, and felt _very_ confused. What had just happened?

Who was that?

He did not get much time to ponder, for the sea of children hungry for lunch began to pour into the Great Hall. Spotting Malfoy's little crew walking forth, he made himself comfortable.

...In the seat of where the usual 'Slytherin King' would sit. I mean, after all, he was just 'a Gryffindor and a mudblood' so how would he know where not to sit? Harry had the urge to chuckle evilly.

To the right of Malfoy and the mini Death Eaters he saw James and Sirius, and after making eye contact the two rushed over to him.

"You're not gone!" Sirius exclaimed happily, black eyes lighting up with excitement. James bounced on the balls of his feet.

"No, Dumbledore just talked to me for a minute."

"Well, you're real lucky Headmaster Veers wasn't here, because if he got you in trouble - oh man it would be _real_ bad." James said solemnly. "I've met him with my dad before, and the dad says not to trust him cause he was convicted for being a Grindelwald follower. He was found innocent, but dad still thinks otherwise. He was the one to convict Headmaster Veers, after all. But Reaper or not a Grindelwald follower, that guy is still intense and scary." Harry definitely took that information into account. An ex-Reaper for a Headmaster? Worthy of attention.

"Listen," He said to James and Sirius, "I think you guys should sit here too." Oh, Hadrian was cruel. The Slytherins would not enjoy this.

"..."

"..."

"Are you crazy?" Sirius said in a high voice. He cleared his throat. "They won't want us here!" It still came out high-pitched. James snickered a little but still nodded seriously along with Sirius' words.

Harry inwardly sighed. He didn't want to use this weapon but... He widen his eyes in a puppy dog look his Godfather woud have been proud of and slightly stuck out his lower lip- enough where it would have an effect but not enough where it would really be noticed.

"It's just...what if they don't like me? What if they are...not so nice to me? I just...would like my first two friends to be here with me." Sirius and James looked at each other before saying in perfect unison-

"Alright." Sirius slid onto Harry's right and James slid onto his left. It had barely been half a minute before a crisp voice spoke from behind them.

"I do not recall you inviting the entirety of Gryffindor House, Lucius." A boy with light brown hair and bland features raised an eyebrow at the three, before Hadrian fluidly stood.

"Hello," he smiled pleasantly. "I do not think we have had the joy of introductions yet. How uncivilized of...us." Harry's stress on the word _us_ implied that he found the other boy's behavior uncouth. The brown haired child's ears grew a little red at the tips, and Lucius Malfoy stood behind him looking prim as ever and ridiculously pleased.

"Well," he smoothly interjected. "Are you going to give Mr. Riddle your introductions or not?" His voice had an underlying current of sharpness. Malfoy may be one of the youngest in their semi-gang, but he clearly had influence regardless.

The brown haired boy gave a sharp nod to Malfoy and gave Harry a small bow.

"My name is Leo Fawley, Heir to the Fawley family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age thirteen years and will be presented this summer." Harry give a small dip of the head, and made to introduce himself.

But before he did, he made eye contact with the man whom had just walked into Great Hall side by side with Albus Dumbledore. Brown eyes examined intensely the scene in front of Harry.

Hadrian tried to ignore the burning interest in the other man's eyes as he looked at Harry, but even as he turned away from the searching gaze of Tom Riddle he still felt it searing into his mind.

He should have never given into his instincts, and should have just been meek to the man in that cellar. He should have avoided any interest sparking for him in Tom Riddle's eyes.

But, oddly enough, Harry really couldn't bring himself to regret it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Last Chapter...**

_"Are you going to give Mr. Riddle your introductions or not?" His voice had an underlying current of sharpness. Malfoy may be one of the youngest in their gang, but he clearly had influence regardless._

_The brown haired boy gave a sharp nod to Malfoy and gave Harry a small bow._

_"My name is Leo Fawley, Heir to the Fawley family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age thirteen years and will be presented this summer." Harry give a small dip of the head, and made to introduce himself._

_But before he did, he made eye contact with the man whom had just walked into Great Hall side by side with Albus Dumbledore. Brown eyes examined intensely the scene in front of Harry._

_Hadrian tried to ignore the burning interest in the other man's eyes as he looked at Harry, but even as he turned away from the searching gaze of Tom Riddle he still felt it searing into his mind._

_He should have never given into his instincts, and should have just been meek to the man in that cellar. He should have avoided any interest sparking for him in Tom Riddle's eyes._

_But, oddly enough, Harry really couldn't bring himself to regret it._

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**The Big Deal**

Tom Riddle's eyes narrowed in and zoomed to one Hadrian Riddle with a razor precision that frightened Albus. It was as if, despite the hundreds of children in the hall, he could immeadiately _see_ where the boy was.

He knew that his story was a gamble, based entirely on Tom's hatred and general opinion of muggles. If Albus was correct in his assumptions, if Tom's immense dislike for the race would overcome his suspicion, then he was in the clear with Hadrian Riddle.

If not...

He just jeopardized the safety and future of a child and his own safety hand-in-hand. And he knew he could only blame himself for being in this situation in the first place, and that really hurt Albus the most. A man having to face his own faults was the most difficult hurdle.

Walking side-by-side with Albus Dumbledore, Tom made his way to the Head Table. He was to be seated next to the Headmaster's chair as a guest- regardless that the Headmaster in question was not even here.

All the better, Tom was never quite fond of Veers.

But all of these facts were of no true importance or concern to Riddle, as his attention was continually drawn back to the lithe figure of first year Hadrian, a Gryffindor who was currently seating himself at the Slytherin table for lunch after a confrontation with a gangle of his followers' children.

The boy really was rather like him in many aspects he had seen so far... strong willed, and a magnet for people.

Those foul, filthy muggles. He _knew_ he should have burned that orphanage, that place of torment, to the ground years ago. But it would have been to clear to Dumbledore and his already growing suspicions of Tom who had committed the crime. He had been already too close to being caught with the Chamber incident, which most certainly had not been smoothed over the way he had planned.

The sickness of empathy boiled in his veins.

The power of his hate was just as strong.

* * *

Harry had to hold back a grin as Leo Fawley introduced himself. That in itself wasn't really the humourous part- it was watching out of the corner of his eye all the Slytherins trying to hide the anger on their faces. He had disrupted their normal seating pattern, and now they just looked lost.

But back to the issue at hand, he was not about to be one upped by this kid's snotty introduction. Sacred Twenty-Eight? Two can play that game. Harry at least _thought_ that the Gaunt name was of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

These kids wouldn't know any better anyways, the Gaunt family was well and buried. Harry knew that if Tom Riddle was prancing around, then he wasn't besmirching Voldemort's claim to pureblood name.

"My name is Hadrian Riddle, Heir of the Gaunt family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of eleven years, and my presentation will the summer after next." What the hell was a 'presentation' anyway? He saw some of the Slytherins do a bit of a double take on the whole Gaunt thing, but Harry enjoyed it. Extinct and all, there was little refute against his use of the Gaunt family. He was a Riddle here, might as well use the benefits. It wasn't as if any of them knew who Lord Voldemort really was- or the winding connection to Gaunt. Riddle was smarter than that. And to be clear-

There were very, _very_ limited benefits to walking around bearing the name of the man who wrecked his life from nearly day one.

His old life, that is.

Well, Harry could at least rest with the thought that _he_ was not actually any relative of Harry's.

Leo Fawley was looking right grim, and Harry just smoothly sat back down at the table. James seemed to stare off into space- and Sirius was looking at him with wide eyes- but Harry was not too worried. Because Sirius had a grin to match. He leaned over to Hadrian as the Slytherins dispersed to take seats.

"Nice one, that was really funny to see their faces. You just owned them!" Sirius whispered excitedly, blowing hot air by Harry's ear.

"I know," Harry said smugly. He turned to his left to ask what James thought of his little cruel joke, but he wasn't there. Instead there sat Malfoy with a small- dare he say it?- smile on his mouth.

"Your acquaintance Mr. Potter, is seated to the right of Mr. Black. I merely thought it appropriate that as Professor Slughorn enforced this idea that we socialize, I should sit with you during this luncheon." Harry was growing tired of Malfoy's word vomit, and prim proper polite attitude. "I do believe you are seeing your friends each day, yes? Our contact however is quite more limited, and had gotten off to a rather ill start. Something I would like to rectify, by the way."

Lucius' manner of speech was something he would accept on his adult self, but on a twelve year old it was rather...misplaced. "My attitude was poor on the station, and in the hallway. I first had been rather distraught with news from my uncle; my aunt has been killed two weeks ago. It propelled me into such a terrible state that I lashed out on every opportunity. In the hall, well, it was a combination of that and your impressive skills clearly out weighing my own."

From merely glancing at the other faces of the Slytherins, he could verify the truth behind Malfoy's words. Some were clearly shocked or upset that Malfoy told Harry what had happened to his Aunt. Harry knew any familial or personal friend matters were held tight within circles until released as appropriate by the Head of one's family. That would mean Lucius not only released private information to him, but anyone else at the table who did not know. Quite a risk- the Head of the family could be very upset if word got out.

With a silent wave of Professor Dumbledore's hand, the meal arrived, but that wouldn't save Harry from anwering.

"I agree that we had not started our acquaintance in the... best of fashions. I reacted to you in an immature and weak way by misplacing your luggage. Though I did seek to fix that- I had undone the enchantments keeping your belongings from drying." Lucius' eyes glittered and he really did smile then, slowly.

"I had wondered if that was permanent or if it would just wear off. I had assumed in this morning that the charms wore off, but now I know they did not. Clever! And I presume, if you'll excuse me, that is the reason you were in the Slytherin common in the first place?" Harry smiled.

"Well the atmosphere was just so soothing, I had to see if such peace had long term effects."

"Feel free to experiment with that at any time you so please." Yet another statement from Malfoy that was drawing disapproval from his housemates and confusion from Harry. Was this a ploy to observe Hadrian? Either way, he could not deny Malfoy. The blonde boy was not making his housemates happy at all.

He gave a small dip of the head and turned to his plate. Everyone else in their little centered group at the table followed suit. It was quite funny to see that they had- _accidentally_ \- waited for him to start his meal first. A sign of high respect.

After Harry finished compiling his meal, he began to carefully as possible eat his lamb shank with apricot sauce. James scrunched up his nose at it.

"What? It's really good! The apricot sauce just really works with the dish." 

"Yeah." James sniffed.

As they all dug in, chit chat started up and Harry could catch snippets of different conversations.

"And then I said that of course you never wear red, for it's simple Selwyn name! How pathetic that rag truly would follow in the footsteps of Madame Loisel without aid..."

"...mother says the weather is just _dreadful_ , but I would _much_ rather hear from father about something other than housewife mumblings. He's a diplomat you know? On a mission to Magical Japan, that's right..."

"Who does he think he is?! He has no authority over us! Malfoy is being whimsical by allowing this fool into our very heart, simply because the idiot got drunk on Riddle's magic. I bet it's real weak magic anyway, probably lies about being a Gaunt descendant." A lot of people had stopped talking to look at Fawley. He picked up momentum from this. "Look at the mudblood, he does not measure up to our glorious House, our glorious... Heritage!"

Conversation had slowly died out, when Leo Fawley began ranting to thin air about Hadrian. Malfoy looked to be building a rage, bristling with indignation. By saying Hadrian's magic was weak he was insulting Malfoy for being affected by it... which was not a courteous move. 

Harry was really not appreciating the hoedown that was happening, and in response let his magic flow through him. He didn't ease his classmates into his magic, he just let it crash down on them like a wave. Some had very physical reactions, and heads turned in reaction from other tables.

And that was just a small fraction of what he felt inside, but it shut up any rumors of his 'weakness' ahead of time. Harnessing your magic, your very core, is something only a sorcerer can do- which is what everyone in this castle was. The implication that Harry was a squib would not be ignored! Oh, actually, if Filch was around... maybe not everyone in the castle was a sorcerer.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to give a stern talk down to the Leo brat, Malloy gently nudged him.

"The Professor Slughorn is coming over to congratulate us all on our House Unity efforts." Harry breathed his magic inside onc emore, but the dazed look still lingered in many nearby eyes. Then when everyone was rearranging their faces to look more normal, Lucius whispered to Hadrian.

"This will most likely be pretty painful." Before Harry could even think to question what he meant, Slughorn was upon them.

"Aha, Hadrian, how are you? Enjoying your lunch?" Slughorn boomed. "I do love to see this fine example of House Unity active!" He was so loud that the rest of the lunchroom couldn't help but look over. Harry felt hundreds of eyes search him out and widen at the Gryffindor emblem on his robes.

This is what Malfoy meant, likely

"Aw Sluggy, leave the honey alone." The playful voice of a familiar lady called, all the way from the Head Table. Athena wiggled her fingers at Hadrian with a smile.

Slughorn chuckled jolly and deep, and made his way back up to the Head Table.

The woman swirled her drink around in her glass, while staring Hadrian down. He felt a bit uncomfortable. She did snap out of it to enthusiastically re-welcome Slughorn to his seat.

Harry knew the man was harmless in the long run, but did he have to make it such a big deal? Now everyone would wonder of him, if only for a second. He had the spotlight now, but Harry had had that enough in his life.

He just sighed and went back to his meal, and thought that was the end of the ordeal.

Until Bellatrix showed up.

* * *

Tom stared at the strange woman- Professor- and her little cut into Slughorn's show off. She stared at the boy for a while longer before snapping out of it.

He did not blame her, he could not keep his eyes of the enigma that was the Gryffindor sitting with the Slytherins. And perhaps he felt a tiny personal connection to the child- due of course to the similarities they had and the sick story Dumbledore had revealed.

Foul, filthy muggles they were.

So Tom watched the boy closely without stop, and raised an eyebrow at the arrival of Bellatrix Black. She was only eleven but he had heard boasting tales from Walburga's sister of her daughter's immense talent in duelling. An apparent prodigy- who did not look too happy to see Hadrian sitting at the Slytherins' table. Let alone in the spot of the king, unknowing or not.

He felt suddenly a bit protective of the boy, his ignorance and disadvantaged background. She began to raise her voice and shout at Hadrian, but he was unfazed and seemed to calmly respond. She eventually grew rosy in the face with anger.

Little self control, Tom noted. Or maybe, he thought, that's just what children do.

She made to open her mouth again but Hadrian cut her off. When he was done speaking, she just blinked at him and them proceeded to sit down next to him, practically shoving a very disgruntled Malfoy heir out of the way.

She faced him completely on the bench and they talked on for the remainder of lunch. At the end when the students made to leave, she leaned forward and hugged the boy. Hadrian made no move to return the motion and the Malfoy heir had to in the end remove her.

She seemed to apologize from what Tom could tell of their facial expressions. Hadrian said something that caused her to curtsy before flouncing off. The girl seemed to go from hating to adoring him in the span of fifteen minutes.

Then the object of his attention stood to leave with the eldest son of Walburga's and Charlus' offspring trailing behind.

The Potter family was disgraced, and Walburga spoke often of her eldest's disturbing behavior.

He could do better, Tom noted. 

* * *

Harry was puzzled but mostly uncomfortable about the occurrence with Bellatrix.

"What is wrong with that girl?" He wondered aloud.

"Beats me," Sirius said shrugging. "I'd say only God knows, but I'm pretty sure it's more likely her origins lie with the place down below... if you understand what I'm saying." There was a moment of silence as the three walked before they all started to snicker.

Which disintegrated, quickly, into full blown laughter.

And Sirius eyed Harry's joy with satisfaction. It felt great to make his new friends laugh, really it did. His family never failed _to fail_ to find him humorous.

 _By Merlin_ , he thought smugly, _if I could do one thing for the rest of my life it would be making people laugh. Everyone needs a laugh. Morgana knows that his family needed to..._

Hadrian caught his eye, and Sirius only swelled up in more pride as the other boy once again lost his composure.

* * *

The games were _so, perfectly_ on.

History is making itself here and now. This time she would be ready, she would not flee. Not this time....

With a heavy sigh, she threw away thoughts of haunting memories to eye the rolling fields that gave way to distant mountains of Scotland. From the window, she could see the mist swirling around the tops of the dense trees in the Forest. It was generally miserable beyond the glass panes, wet and gray. Athena primly sat herself on the window seat out of respect.

After all, misery loves company.

This weather looked like it could compliment her internal, eternal suffering just perfectly. Britain was the right choice.


	14. Chapter 14

**Last Chapter...**

_Athena primly sat herself on the window seat out of respect._

_After all, misery loves company._

_And the weather looked like it could compliment her inner suffering just perfectly._

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Mother Knows Best**

"You see, Tom, it is unlikely that one who makes your acquaintance would be quick to forget it. You are rather memorable, unless perhaps, a nifty spell of forgetfulness were to plague your meeting." Dumbledore's light eyes sparkled with faint mirth. Tom looked generally unamused and drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. The old man's eyes seemed to light brighter if anything while his face alternatively seemed to gain age. With a quirk of his thin lips, he continued on. "Wool's Orphanage is one of the places that your lingering traces had not been particularly enjoyable for those still remaining..."

Tom withheld a shudder of disgust and other overwhelming emotions he wouldn't name. His anger had yet to even begin to fade after what his old Professor discussed with him. To think, the boy seemed so bright yet stayed in such a place of _filth_ and darkness. Would this young boy truly be returning to such a dim and cruel place each summer holidays?

This halted Tom in his tracks. For it was simply unacceptable, as he remembered clear as day begging to stay the summer at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would never allow it, Veers was out of the question...

He decided he would set a plan of action to remove the boy from Wool's permenantly, from behind the scenes.

Which was of course a calm reaction, and not at all odd for Tom to do. He was a very kind and generous and thoughtful man after all.

God, he'd known he should've burnt that place to the _ground_.

* * *

Harry believed that the luncheon had gone rather swell, despite the little upsets. He was now established as a Gaunt descendant, which simultaneously clarified that the connection to Tom Riddle and their 'Lord' was not present. It also showed their Lord had not announced his status as the true Gaunt, just as Harry was so sure. Riddle wouldn't want any possibility of a recognition- he could not admit his identity, not even to his followers and their families. A man used to keeping his cards close to his chest.

Speaking of taking risks, Harry felt the weight of the files inside his robes. As he walked with James and Sirius to the dormitory he determined to put it out of his mind the rest of the day. He would examine them at night, and then re-look over his school books. Class would start tomorrow after all and he intended to wow. Unlike his mediocre performance in the nineties, a cute result of training by the Dursleyes not to outshine others, now he would unfairly use all his expertise to ace these classes.

Ha, he thought. Aren't I unfair?

"Hey freshmeat, what the hell was with that little get together at lunch, huh?" A sneering sixth year boy called out to Hadrian with a girl maybe a year or two younger than him hanging off his arm. "You all buddy-buddy with them snakes now?" James and Sirius stepped protectively in line with Harry. "Who exactly do you think you are? I think you need yourself a little lesson from us big boys." Now within the firelit, sunkissed common room, Harry has met some opposition. The boy very obviously motioned two monstrous students roughly the same age as him over. They menacingly stood over Hadrian and crew. The girl with her bouncy chestnut curls tittered at the scene, and gazed on at the boy with fondness.

"Get going Potter, Black. I ain't got no bone with you to be picking." Harry saw Sirius boldly thrust his chin up and stand straighter.

"I'm not going _anywhere._ " James copied Sirius' movement with a resounding answer himself.

"I got a bone to pick with you. Hadrian is my friend, and I don't abandon my friends." Harry was truly touched by their display, and hoped they wouldn't be harmed for it.

Of course, he realistically knew he would never let anything happen to the two. He was already unhealthily attached.

The three burly boys snickered a bit in a truly ugly way, before crackling their knuckles and removing their wands from their robes. Harry couldn't stand for what was playing out and swiftly pulled out his own phoenix wand.

"Expelliarmus," he cast quietly, in such a faint whisper of exasperation it was nearly inaudible. Just as fast, the boys' wands were gone and laying in the loose grip of Harry's hand.

He was left-handed, and he still held out his wand in the elder boys' direction in case of physical attack. But none would come despite the menacing looks on their faces, because right that second Minerva McGonagall burst through from the corridor.

"What is going on in here?" she exclaimed, face severe. "Well? You think that the wards are not monitored in the privacy of your dorms? Hm?" The professor looked truly irate with her students. Harry never could remember any such occurences of the Head of Gryffindor entering the dorms except the two or three situation extremities, certainly not over petty disputes.

And wards on the dorms which would... what? Sense ill intent? He supposed that such an explanation could work. Expelliarmus was hardly a fighting spell.

She was looking now at Harry, and the expression on her face booked no room for argument.

"Professor, you see-" He began.

"The little bugger went and start up picking fights with me and mine! He's a right freak," the sixth year, that started this all, cut in. The other two boys nodded viciously in agreement and looked at Harry as if he were sludge under their shoes. Despite the stupidity and lack of viability to that comment, it... stung. Harry flinched at the word 'freak', for obvious, Dursleyish reasons. He felt pathetic for the effect only a word could hold, but he supposed it was normal.

Didn't mean he liked it.

"I don't believe I was enquiring after you, Mr. Sayre! I am asking Mr. Riddle for his explanation on what exactly has being going on here," McGonagall said sharply. When she turned to Harry, he expected some of that coldness from her tone to drift into her expression, but she looked blank. So, in a quick manner, he told her precisely what had happened. The frustrated _Mr. Sayre_ managed to hold his tongue until Harry was done, but he couldn't hold back the sullen comment afterward.

"That's not true, it went nuthin' like that."

"For goodness sake!" McGonagall said. "You are of decently noble standing, and raised in all of the olde and proper ways. Why do you speak like that of a street child?" Mr. Sayre turned a sour plum red and huffed before violently seating himself on the armchair he had originally risen from.

"Professor," Harry said softly, "I am willing to provide memory proof or partake in any other method of determinaton."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Riddle," Professor McGonagall sighed. "I believe you in this instance. Mr. Sayre will face disciplinary action for his behavior, and you will be required to check in with the nurse for any maladies or injuries done to your person. I am not accusing Mr. Sayre, but this is a school wide requirement." Harry once again had never heard of such a thing happening in Hogwarts. There were fights all the time, and there were never any checks done on the participants. It was rather clever to do so as well, for what if a spell had been cast to be slow-acting or delayed? It would have been a quite useful school system. "Not to mention, Mr. Riddle, you had escaped the nurse earlier on I had heard. Snuck out on the intern, Madam Pompfrey." She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Harry's bashful look.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Just make your way there now, why don't you? Not you two too, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black. No need to have you two veering him away from the boring hospital wing. Speaking of bad influences... I received the most curious letter from your father, Mr. Potter. I do not want any such foolishness in..." Harry walked out of the dorm to the embarrassed groan of James.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was a proud, vain, and generally selfish child. But oddly enough, unlike most children of such a degree, he was aware of it. _And,_ even _more_ surprising, is that he did not wish to be any of those things.

He always had heard, for as long as he can remember anywho, how much he was like his father. Ah, the joys of father and son, a pair like no other!

But Abraxas Malfoy was nothing like his son, and Lucius wanted to be everything that his father was. His father was considerate, softspoken yet commanding, clever- with that glint in his eye that wasn't malvolent so much as _compelling._ He was philosophical and charitable! He pondered very existence of man and still was so involved in the right-here-right-now. He truly loved his wife and family, unlike so many of the arranged marriages.

Lucius didn't have the heart his father did, it seemed. Nor the love for life itself or even knowledge and he didn't care much for philosophy. His influence came from his family line, and had nothing to do with his own merits.

But slowly he was changing that. He must, he thought to himself. He had to prove he was clever and insightful and an asset in his insight.

That is where Hadrian Riddle comes in.

He was powerful beyond anything Lucius had ever felt, and knowing that that display at lunch was clearly not his full ability, was intoxicating in its own right. It made Lucius feel greedy with Hadrian Riddle, even as he saw the bonuses of sharing his abilities to others so to say "look what I found, you are welcome."

And perhaps, if he were brave enough one day he would bring this boy of raw potential to his father, who would undoubtlessly approve.

...and then perhaps his father would bring Hadrian to the mysterious Lord. He was sure if that happened he would be in favor with the man.

Which was a good thing, correct? Who _wouldn't_ want to be in good favor with such an influential and powerful man as the Dark Lord Voldemort?

And in the process of Hadrian Riddle, Lucius Malfoy would gain a bit of his own merits to stand by.

And one day, perhaps if he were brave enough, he will be a lot more like his father in the end.

* * *

A little girl with hollow gold hair pulled into two braids was dodging the steps of a tall and slender woman. This woman was well known for her intimidating beauty.

"Mother," she said. "When is father coming home?" The woman imperceptibly sped up and so did the child behind her, with no response. "Mother," she cried, "Mother, I want father to come home now. Where is he? Are we going to get him?" By now the little girl was becoming very frustrated with her mummy, who seemed to be ignoring her. Each step was more tiring and heavy than the last.

In a voice usually melodious, but now raspy with exhaustion, the woman finally spoke.

"Silence yourself foolish child, he lies among these bodies I am sure of it." The woman's bluntness did nothing for the stubbornness of a small child, who had yet to understand the weight of death.

"Father will come home! Father _must_!" The little girl stumbles along. "Mother- won't you _please_ listen! You are being _s-silly!_ " It was so hard to keep walking.

But her father never did come home, and that woman walked on through the quiet field of strewn men. The air was frigid and the snow burning in its coldness, but they did not yet feel it... and that little girl followed her mother through the reminants of the Stalingrad offensive.

The striking woman had wandered around in near silence for _far too long_ searching for her husband's body, her daughter trailing faithfully behind, and soon the warming charms wore down and the little girl began to shiver. The lady walked on, and on, until her daughter simply couldn't go any further and sat to rest her feet. They ached so.

In a few hours she would be found by soldiers and brought in somewhere warm, but her mother wasn't found until much later. They would say she died of weather and sorrow, a waste of a remarkably bea

Her father did indeed die somewhere upon that wasteland, and many years later she would find his medallion in the wet grass of late Russian spring. She slowly began to heal for many years after that- and changed.

Sometimes she forgot, forgot to be better. You see until that moment with the medallion (which brought her great personal peace on the subject), the little girl grew a bitterness for weakness and did _everything_ to fight it. Anything. That little girl was angry and nervous and had made a lot of bad choices.

Had wanted to be terrible.

That little girl that sat in an interrogation room in Moscow in the year of 1942, would never know weakness because she cried it so.

And that is where Athena's story began, and eventually it led her to meet _Harry's_.

* * *

Harry glumly eyed the opposite wall.

It was white, like everything else in the hospital wing. Intern Poppy Pompfrey fluttered around him, and proceeded to check him off as free to go.

"Oh no you don't!" She snapped before he could sneak out the door. Pompfrey bustled over and shoved two vials into his hands. "The blue is an edited version of pain relief potion if the Diffindo wound ever bothers you. The other one is a minor healing potion meant to increase the strength of the area in which you were hit." She eyeballed him intensely. "I expect you to _take them_ when it is needed."

"I will," he promised. Although it was unlikely, he could act like he would.

"You better," she threatened. Harry put up his hands in a placating gesture with the vials and began backing out. Pompfrey snorted before turning back to her hospital wing, or what would be her hospital wing one day, and Harry made his exit.

In the mostly empty hallway, Harry was yet again approached by Lucius Malfoy.

"Mr. Riddle, the Professor Slughorn has deemed the beginning of the union of our houses worthy of serious celebration. There will be a little get-together of about fourty students or so, to celebrate this fine day." Harry nearly groaned in frustration. why must wizard society be so... societal, sometimes? But this was good for him. Maybe. He had barely socialized in over a year, and was going to have to keep adjusting in this timeline.

So he courteously took the envelope invitation into his head and parted ways with the Malfoy heir. Once he had made his way back into his dorms, he saw it lacked the three angry boys and clinging girl from earlier. Perhaps they found other children to corner. Besides from a cursory glance he avoided eye contact with anyone else before heading to his bed by the window.

His patience was not nearly as strong as he had thought, and he carefully warded his bed and crawled behind the curtains once noticing a fair lack of James and Sirius. With a quick fourish his whipped up the thick files encased in his robes. Warily he checked for any spells, curses, warding, or hexes on the pages but none were found. Harry was afraid he was missing something, but the innocuous folder sat there in innocence, a bold **Hadrian** splashed over the cover. He eagerly flipped over the first page to find-

Nothing. White, blank paper.

He flipped through the entirety of the pages to find them in the same condition. He sighed in a most put upon way, and drummed his fingers on the stack of apparently blank but not negatively charmed papers.

Why would Macnair want blank papers? And if this was a mission commissioned by the Dark Lord, why had Riddle been there and even questioned after the papers? And if Macnair was doing this for reasons that involved Hadrian Riddle and was not telling Tom Riddle, then what was the sacred importance of these papers that he would risk himself so? And how did Macnair know of him if Tom Riddle didn't seem to think he had a son? What was Harry missing? Was he really- Voldemort's?

He was seriously becoming invested in the backstory for Hadrian Riddle, the boy who's life he'd stole.

A sudden breeze drifted through the curtains and a couple of the papers drifted away. Harry snatched them from the air, but on the cover page he cut his thumb on the sharp, crisp edge of paper.

Hissing in frustration he placed the paper back on top of the pile before pulling out his wand to be rid of the red stain. Before he did, something caught his eye. An elegant script with beautiful looping letters faded into being.

_Mother Knows Best_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Meddling Affairs**

Harry had a foreboding feeling as he watched the words come to life, which wasn't even based on what they said. It was instead the reminder it served him... of Tom Riddle's diary that gave him a prickly ice-cold chill down his back. All roads lead back to Riddle, he thought wryly. As he watched, more words followed. 

All information accounted for:

_Yes_

Blood sample A correct verification:

_Yes_

Unlocking:

_Yes_

_Unlocking Now_

Suddenly a mess of scrawl filled the creamy paper, then he flipped through the rest of the papers to see the same happening. It was a tiny, cramped, and cursive muddle to Harry, with phrases and references he did not understand. It looked to be the work of a Healer, with reference to balms and magical maladies. He decided to start reading from the beginning...

* * *

"I expect that all the proper paperwork is accordingly there for your... browsing enjoyment," the tall man assured with a gratuitous smile. Mrs. Cole was surely getting along in age, but she was still flustered with this young man- barely thirty three perhaps, at the eldest. He was just so deliciously handsome, with that silky looking hair...

"Why, thank you, Mr. Black. I am definite that there will be no complications in the process. We shall have him called here for a while during his school holidays, and you can meet him. Then also, you may go through with such a big life step as adopting a... young man. I congratulate you!" In her excitement to see this man again, she forgot entirely to warn him of the freakish occurences when it came to Hadrian Riddle, letting Mr. Black leave without any forewarning.

Mr. Orion Black personally had no idea what his Lord was planning when it came to the adoption of some random kid. A more-than-likely mudblood. But he obeyed his orders, regardless of personal confusion. That was what he always did, for he knew his Lord's temper was not to be underestimated and his Lord's judgement could generally be trusted.

Generally.

* * *

_**27\. April. 1960** _

The struggle grows stronger by the day.

My patient's regular absorbance of magical aura is not nearly high enough to support two lives. The child will certainly not make it into the final trimester. Perhaps not even the second. The mother's consumption of food has drastically decreased and yet her child grows stronger, an odd phenomenon. But the child will both pass away with such clear deterioration of the mother's health. It only will take time to watch it happen.

Harry spun through the short, unidentifying entries on this doctor's patient's health, before coming to a stop when the painfully neat writing became sharp and scrawling.

_**13\. August. 1960** _

The child is strong, stronger than his mother for many weeks now. He swells in magical aura and health on seemingly nothing as his mother consumes little to no food and barely can move from exhaustion. And I have found the answer to this 'phenomenon' as I so foolishly called it. Her unwillingness to eat and lack of movement is a cause of the creature growing inside her. It is taking her magic. and once this is drained, the child will go for the weak crumbs of her life force to help itself survive. It is an ancient sort of wizarding child, created when a mother is intended to be replaced and there is no use for her but her child. I have now discovered they can be replicated accidentally? it seems. I hope. The devoratrix now will take her life, I am now sure of it. Can I stop this? Will she allow me to do so?

If her spouse were to discover what part I have played in concealing her, and then practically insuring her death, I will face a horrible fate. My days are as numbered as the wife.

A dilemma.

_**14\. August. 1960** _

She refused to be rid of the child, claiming its innocence of all things. So that may be, but it will still kill her in the end.

She also remained staunchly against the idea of even writing a letter to alert her spouse of the child or her survival of the attack. She says he will then find us some way and it is best to avoid all contact, and I -truly- do not doubt this.

Remarkable man.

But it boggles me that she does all this hiding and running to save a child who will kill her. I would most likely attempt to contact her spouse to alert him of his wife's well being and the devoratrix, however I am aware I will be the one penalized for the current _situation._

There was a noticeable lack of writing for nearly two months. The next divulgance laid in November.

_**24\. November. 1960** _

My patient is nearly comatose for most of her time. The devoratrix is ridiculously strong. I stay adamant in my view that she will not survive. It would take a miracle. Her spouse grows more agitated in his actions by the day. The lack of her seems to be taking its toll, and his hope of her survival dwindling. I regret nothing more than hiding her here with me, but what is done is done. And there is nothing I can do now to fix any of it.

I am a coward. A woman dying is braver than I.

_**10\. December. 1960** _

The child will be born within the next couple of weeks. Its health is prime and the Missus is truly, completely out of it for the majority of the day.

Yet again, there was a lack of personal entries. Instead, pages upon pages of potion mumbo-jumbo and scrawled notes lead up to the last entry.

_**31\. December. 1960** _

It is a true miracle sent by Magick herself I am certain! The child has arrived, and she has survived the birth! While still weak she should slowly recover her health

There were was ink trailing from the last 'h' as if someone has suddenly yanked their hand back and the quill was jaggedly ripped against the parchment. Harry could tell without a doubt that hadn't been the intended end of the entry.

Harry was not dull in the head, regardless of what Draco Malfoy thought. He could draw himself the conclusion that the child referred to was none other than him. He felt a warm gladness that he hadn't killed his mother upon birth, before shaking it off.

The wasn't really him. It was just a back story for this boy he created.

"Harry, you in here? We wanna check out the grounds, you coming with or what?" Sirius' young voice permeated the wards around the bed. Hadrian popped his head out of the curtains and grinned.

"Sure thing," he said and slid out of his fortress. The files became meticulously stacked with the casual flick of his finger behind his back. "I could use some fresh air."

"Alright, let's go," James announced from beyond the dorm door, muffled by three inches of wood. Sirius bounded to the door and Hadrian followed in a calmer fashion. Yet the enthusiasm was contagious and he felt lighter after the load placed on his shoulders through reading about his birth.

He was a monster, that put his birth mother through excruciating pain and suffering to gain power himself. He nearly killed his own mother, and now it was unapparent what had even happened to her. From the sparse information in the Healer's entries, his father either knew nothing of him or wanted nothing to do with him. Most likely both.

It hurt, if he was honest.

Yet again, he was the anomaly, the oddball out. That woman died for him. For the boy he now was. Is there ever a universe where people do not die for him?

* * *

"Madam, please have a seat," intoned Mr. Dumbledore. Half moon glasses glinted with the reflection of the fireplace as the newest Defense professor sat herself down. She looked around the office, and made no obvious expression to the variety of splendid magical trinkets. Her gaze returned to the Headmaster once he began to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are happy to have you here- I especially as you have finally given into my pleas. Thank you for accepting application. I am certain you will do a wonderful job with molding the young minds."

"Molding young minds?" She mocked tsked and stuck her nose dramatically into the air. "I am a young mind myself, than you so very much, Albus. If anything they will be teaching me." Sinking back into a more comfortable position for her sky high nose, she held a tight smile that slowly faded away as she looked at her old foe's sad eyes.

When had my utmost enemy become my only solace?

I am truly, now, alone.

But alas, Albus is as well.

But that was his own choice.

"I feel old now, dear. Not at all like one such as yourself." The Headmaster spoke slowly. There was a very long moment of silence following that. The one moment where everything seems to slow and you feel the beginning of something, or maybe the end. Or maybe just some indigestion.

Neither moved.

The silence stretched on for ages. Maybe just seconds. The Headmaster stared blankly at her forehead. She was unsure whether he expected the response anymore.

But that nagging nostalgia swells inside her until it is a crushing wave that engulfs her small frame. There is an eternal stupidity to the youth. But there was a special wisdom too- that she just could no longer capture as she did.

Too much time has passed, and yet never enough. The words still came too easily, said too often before.

"Alas, you must see, I am twice as tired, " she returned. The once automatic phrase was still just as sickly sticky comfortablehomehomehome in her mouth as ever.

"Yes, you are, m'dear, " The Headmaster said. He then looked away to the blank wall, and she blinked quickly in rapid succession.

The woman stood, and then proceeded to swiftly walk to the door. She opened it, and on the way out turned back just once to see her witty old nemesis (he really had gotten quite old) bow his head into his hands.

This is what we are reduced to now, Albus. The same level of broken after all we have done and what has been done upon us.

_I have never felt more equal to you, and I had never imagined it would taste so sour._

* * *

"I cannot believe it's already getting breezy. It's only the third of September! I had hoped we'd have a spot more sun." James threw his arms up and tilted back his head. "A little bit of warm wouldn't hurt anyone, you know!" He spun in place, and quickly lost footing at the loss of his equilibrium. With a small squeak (that if you were to inquire upon you would find never happened) he tumbled down onto his arse.

He groaned and flopped down entirely into the grass, eagle spread. Sirius nudged at him with one foot, and James pitifully slapped at it. In a loud, conspiratorial whisper, Sirius leaned back to Hadrian saying,

"I think he's gone round the bend. Pity, we didn't even know him that long either." James moaned in despair. Harry leaned forward to Sirius and said, in the same tone,

"Well it may be that's the problem. Pr'haps he's always been bonkers, we just haven't been round long enough to see it." James sat up onto his elbows.

"How'd you know?" He asked with the most innocent voice he could, and a tilted head.

Before they could say another word on the subject, James leapt to his feet his gaze going far past Harry and Sirius. And he grinned in the most unhinged way that Harry had seen since the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange of his day.

Sarcasm should be noted in this instance. Bellatrix had never posessed any loveliness.

"Look at him!" James crowed, pointing viciously. "Bloody hell, no Sirius- that one! Him right down there, never seen a shower I'd reckon." A bit beyond and to the left of the boys was the Great Lake, and next to it was a large weeping willow. Right outside the curtains of the tree sat a small figure whom, even from their little distance, could clearly be seen to have hair so greasy that it shone.

It shone, and there was not a true ray of sun.

Harry easily could assume that the black strands belonged to one dour Potions master, Severus Snape. He felt a twinge of pain, thinking of their similiar upbringings.

It was best to nip this situation in the bud, he knew.

"James," Hadrian started slowly. "You really shouldn't tease him. You don't even know him or anything, and it's really rather unfair." James snorted.

"Unfair? I think it's unfair that we are forced to deal with people like that who can't even be bothered to wash themselves. Anyway, he's a snake." James pointed to the green and silver robes. "My father was right about them sneaky bastards. I mean Heir Malfoy is such a prat! I think you should've spelled him to the bottom of the lake!" Nip it in the bud, nip it in the bud, Harry's mind chanted to him.

"They can't all be the same, I mean think about Gryffindors. Are we anything like Sayre and his goons?" Sirius' eyes went wide and he barked out a sharp laugh.

"No- that nuthead- no."

"Exactly," Harry continued with a shrug. "So how do we know he'll be like Malfoy?"

"Yeah well, I'm not going to have to talk with him or anything, so I guess it's not that big of a deal." James kicked idly at the ground, his interest in the subject having evaporated entirely. "Let's check out the Forest." He started walking towards it abruptly, gaining speed as his excitement rose at the prospect. Sirius was right behind him, and Harry lingered and called out,

"It's real dangerous you know!" Yet, he still followed. If anything Harry thought to himself, I can protect them better than themselves in dire situations. At least we have that.

At the edge of the trees the boys stopped, Sirius and James didn't seem nearly as confident anymore.

"We won't go far, " Sirius said. "Just a bit, y'know." James nodded sagely.

"Just to look around a bit." Harry smiled lopsidedly.

"It's alright I guess. As long as we aren't caught." James shot a look to the bent figure of Snape, but the boy was still mezmerised by the textbook in his hands, unaware of the trooping Gryffindors.

* * *

A man of impressive stature gazed into the dark woods. His blonde hair was windswept to the side in a modern, stylish manner and his rich blue robes were elegant. Clearly tailored by those of the finest degree. He looked the part of a nobleman, an aristocrat of a time gone by.

Behind him stood a foreboding silence. A thousand men stood in a uniform shape, black hoods covering half of their faces. The darkness of the material seemed almost alive like the night sky itself- if you got too close the fabric would suck you in.

The man stepped forward once, as if crossing some imaginary line. No one saw his shit eating grin, the crinkle of his weathered eyes that did not yet betray his age.

Then he took another step, then another, then another.

The rows upon rows of the shimmering night cloaks followed, swiftly and in silence. Their leader reached one hand up, to gently finger the thin silver chain around his throat that on the end carried the symbols of all he wanted for.

A wand.

A stone.

A cloak.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**The Boy Who Shouldn't Be Alive, and Other Unwelcome Surprises**

"It's considerably, um, darker in here," Sirius said. "That's not- can't be natural."

"My dad says the whole Forest is cursed," James said. "To never be free of dark magicks." Sirius rubbed his arm and laughed, but it came out more tinny than he had probably intended. Harry looked back towards the schoolgrounds, which could still be seen through the trees.

"We could, you know," he suggested. "turn-"

"Nah," James said. "Nah, we haven't even seen anything. We haven't come in here for nothing, might as well have a lookesie." He kicked idly at a tree root that was thicker than his body, and tried to hide the wince of pain. The tree was solid, hard wood, as James had just fully understood. His toe was smarting now.

Harry let him have his bravado, and watched the cloudy sky above the trees. It looked like rain was incoming. He thought about his own first trip into the Forbidden Forest in first year. His first memorable meeting with the man that called himself Lord Voldemort. Reduced to possession, a half-life sustained from unicorn blood. Though perhaps Lord Voldemort had doomed himself to such a life much earlier than that.

"I don't see why the whole forest is off limits. It's not like you get cursed just walking in is it? And most of the Potions herbs, aren't they harvested here? It's like Quidditch!" James and Harry looked at Sirius with twin expressions of confusion. The boy scratched his head. "Y'know, cause they ban that too. All the fun stuff, like Hogsmeade, it's for the upper years isn't it."

"Right but most people don't go missing during Quidditch," Harry said.

"Right," he argued. "but sure enough has happened at Hogsmeade."

"Just for drinking and whatnot," James added. "They get plastered and wander off is all. This- this is a real adventure." He looked into the depths of the trees, chest puffed up. "This is where your bravery can be tested!"

"Not sure I want to be tested the first weekend back," Harry muttered.

"We are _Gry_ ffindors, Harry, and the Prewetts set such an example."

"You trying to outdo them?"

"Who are the Prewetts?" Harry interrupted. James clapped him on the back forcefully.

"What'da mean who are the Prewetts? Oh- right- I keep forgetting- you're a Muggleborn, aren't you?" Harry nodded as they continued to walk on the barely trodden path. It required focus not to trip on some unfortunately placed rock or root every other step. "The Prewetts are twin brothers, lost legendary points from Gryffindor and could win them back in a week. Gave the Aurors a few headcases too, my dad thought it was proper funny though. But, I don't think he likes how much they've, erm, inspired me. But everyone knows them, they're proper Aurors now, only two years after graduation... they rounded up a load of Grindelwald's lot."

Harry had forgotten about Grindelwald after seeing Tom Riddle in the newspaper. It was so curious that Riddle was considered, even here, as suspicious or untrustworthy although having saved lives. Maybe that was waranted- maybe there was a reason- Merlin there was so much Harry didn't know.

But Grindelwald... the Dark Lord from before Harry's time was still around. So Dumbledore hadn't defeated him in this life- whatever that meant for the Wizarding World.

"My dad said they're really going places," James said proudly.

"Hm." Harry was stuck in his head, thinking about all the things he didn't know. Not even about his original timeline, but here. He had practically vacationed at Wool's Orphanage (granted a miserable vacation), but all the same he had wasted time instead of learning about his new environment.

He felt a shiver go down his spine and his heart rate picked up. It felt like a bird flapping its wings in his chest, he clutched it and tried to breathe in. There was no use in feeling this way. That weird heart problem had started ever since the end of the Hogwarts Battle- his nightmares grew more frequent until they plagued him during the waking hours. Every hour with the Dursleys, every altercation with the Death Eaters- it was on constant loop in his head.

It was hardly shocking that Harry needed... escape.

A new life.

But why did it feel like the Boy-Who-Lived was inescapable? This Hadrian Riddle was a killer from birth, his mother died for him to live. Harry knew a similiar tale- he had lived it.

"Oi, do y'reckon that kid's got any friends?"

"What?"

"The greasy one," James exclaimed. Sirius laughed.

"He could fill up a pan with grease!" Harry, this time, stayed silent. It couldn't constantly be his battle to teach them right and wrong. As long as they never came to blows with a young Snape, he was going to have to be satisfied.

"Wait," James breathed. He threw out his hand in front of Harry who umph'd when he walked straight into him. "Here that? I heard something moving." Harry rubbed his chest reproachfully, but James was distracted- scouting out the treeline.

"Brilliant. Let's not stick around then!" Sirius hovered a step behind. Harry thought his desire to leave came from an understanding of the true danger rather than cowardice.

"You're being a bi-" Harry was suddenly glad they had remained in that spot. James really had heard something.

"Woah." Harry's eyes widened and he blinked hard. He'd only seen one once before, and that one was already dead. But living, breathing, walking- it was such majestic beast that it gleamed without any sunlight.

A unicorn.

"I'd never..." Sirius came forward to stand next to Harry, elbowing James. He barely noticed. To the side of them was a thick brush of undergrowth but there was distinct, if small, opening that showed a clearing from the trees. Some sparse grass grew there, or some magical equivalent Harry was sure, and that was where the unicorn was grazing.

It's horn was longer than Harry's wand and looked beautiful- but deadly.

Mesmerized the boys stood until the unicorn lifted its head and looked right at them. It didn't flee, or charge forth with its horn- it looked on for a second and then returned to the grass.

"Talk about good luck," Sirius murmured.

"Think we should, er, keep going?"

"Dunno James, it's a sign either way." Harry was often quick to call wizards a superstitious lot, but he too felt suddenly that seeing the unicorn was a matter of faith.

"Keep going or get closer," Sirius breathily said near Harry's ear.

"Well don't _you_ move Sirius," James said. "Blacks are a dark sort. Wouldn't want to scare it off, would you?"

"What's that mean? Dark sort? We're one of the most-" Sirius was quick to defend himself but his voice rose with each word. "our house is one of the most respected in the wizarding world! Better than..." He sought for an example with his face scrunched up angrily. "Better than loads!" The unicorn bolted, like a flash of white lightning.

"Oh- look what you've done-" 

"We've got history," Sirius snarled. "That's what, that's all- and-"

"What you on about?" He said quizzically. James shook his head. "Ah what, the Black family, right. You lot _are_ dark wizards, aren't you? Merlin. Unicorn is off you bleeding prat."

"You're rotten, Potter!" Sirius whipped around and walked in the direction they came from- very much looking like he was trying not to run away.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to Harry. "Blimey, I dunno what I've done wrong, way he's acting. Nothing, you saw- I did nothing! He scared off the unicorn like I said!"

"Er, yeah," Harry wasn't trying to play mediator again, not like for Ron and Hermione. "You should probably talk to him." 

"Right," James sighed. "But he's nuts."

"Bit harsh."

"Rah," James nodded sagely.

"Er. Well." Harry helpfully shrugged.

James squinted past Harry's shoulder.

"Who's that?" James moaned. "Oh Merlin, are we in trouble. Sirius'll love this."

Harry turned around, and the figure turned around. It seemed equally unhappy to see them.

* * *

"He will not be by the castle, then of course," murmured Dumbledore. Athena looked to him, sharply, and Riddle followed suit. "The castle is paramount, protect the integrity of the school, and the children within. I will see to the seeking man."

"Grindelwald is no weak foe," Riddle said. "You have not underestimated or misunderstood him. You were right to call upon me, and, such other applicants. But the attack on the castle is his diversion- for an unknown goal- that much is clear to anyone of moderate intelligence. But now I assuje it was not only his diversion, but a convienent one for you."

"Then maybe I am not as alone as I feel," Dumbledore smiled. "That you would understand me so well." Riddle widened his eyes, unimpressed.

"I will not chase your coattails to duel Grindelwald. You have accomplished setting me up in your place as the school's defender. Have at your revenges, or whatever it is that motivates you to seek out the, as you said, _seeker_. You would," Riddle bit out, "know also what he seeks, wouldn't you?"

The two men stood still as the stone walls of Hogwarts, eye to eye. Finally, the Professor sighed.

"We should not hesitate any longer," Dumbledore said. "You may have discovered it to be a diversion, Mr. Riddle, but a powerful diversion none the less. It must be handled by experts, not unlike yourself..."

"Difficult men," Athena said.

"We will fortify the bridge. We mustn't fail," McGonagall looked grim. "Little matters more." She gave Riddle a piercing look. "Not even power plays with you lot. This is our school. We will protect it."

* * *

"Are you a Professor, sir?" James called. He had quickly lost interest in Sirius' mood swing it seemed.

"I don't think I have spoken with a child in many, long years." The man had drawn closer, and sneered. "I have been missing nothing."

"I don't think I should speak to weird strangers in the woods," Harry retorted. "You're weird." The man was very still, and Harry could see the anger written in his bulky frame. This wasn't right at all. The Forbidden Forest was still under Hogwarts wards. If this man wasn't an affliate of the school... who was he and how was he inside the wards? He was rude, but then again so was Professor Snape. Harry didn't need to make another Professor despise him, if he could help it. But again, Harry had the feeling this man wasn't supposed to be here at all. That he wasn't a Professor at all.

"You shouldn't wander alone," the man said. "in the woods, where no one's around."

"You're here." Harry said slowly.

"Yes." He smiled. "Yes. I am." He was suddenly much closer than before and shot out an arm to grab Harry's. In shock Harry swung round his right fist just to be grabbed by his tiny eleven year old hand.

"James, go after Sirius," Harry commanded, as confidently as he could muster. People used to listen to him, he thought.

He squirmed fruitlessly and the man still made no move to use a wand to incapacitate him.

"Bitte, let me have a look at you." It seemed that really was all he was doing, but Harry wasn't one for testing fate anymore- or placing it in this man's hands. The man's blue eyes were almost milky in color.

"Riddle? That meddlesome child? You cannot be-" He scowled, and rubbed the bridge of his large nose. "Of course, you would fail me here too."

"What?" Harry was confused now.

"Nothing you will ever worry about," The blond man soothed. Harry was distinctly _not_ calm, not at all.

Harry twisted out of the loosened grip and kicked out wildly- and hit his mark this time. The man hissed with pain.

"Stop that," he snarled. "Infernal child." The man cracked his wand down with a violent turn of wrist and Harry felt his throat convulse. He couldn't breathe- it was burning- _god_ \- when had he _got out his wand_ -

"We're not afraid of you," Harry could hear James stutter and felt his heart drop, greedily sucking in breaths as the large blond was momentarily distracted. Of course the boy didn't run for help! No, he had to stay here and doom them to the man's whims.

"I don't know who you think you are, but my father is Head Auror! He'll have you in Azkaban for coming on the grounds!" The man did give James some attention then.

"Blustery, boy. Charlus Potter has little jurisdiction these days, with his shell of a force. Potter boy, then?" Harry felt his head spinning and he was blinking back darkness- every breath was still effort even though it seemed the man's spell had let up. It looked like it had lasting damage.

"Well, children. This is an odd happenstance," he looked at a shallowly breathing Harry, "but maybe Fate speaks to me. As the great Dark Lord Grindelwald" -the blood drains from James' face although Harry is too far gone to see him clearly- "it would be righteous, and only fair of me to listen to Lady Fate’s intention.

Your fate, lies with me now." He raised his wand again, but Harry still could barely register that.

"Step away, Gellert. You have nothing here for you." He was smiling, it looked like now.

"Ah. Hello, old friend."

"You will leave these grounds, and take the remainders of your men with, Gellert! After such a failure at the Wizengamot summit- one would not think you so bold. My staff have capably held them off on the inner grounds. What on earth had you meant to achieve?"

It was Dumbledore. The wizard turned to face Dumbledore, face contorted in rage.

"Your staff and _Riddle_. My, you must have been worried to invite him here, my old friend. Doubly so, because look!" He gestured to Harry on the ground. "I ran into such a boy that shouldn't be alive, imagine the surprise."

"Hadrian are you alright?" Harry groaned. He was alive! He wanted to say.

"I am here for my belongings, Albus. This Forest was your original plan.. I was also so spot on with my judging of your next step. You remain so predictable. I had intended my devoted as a petty distraction. Surely a few hundred of my mediocre ranks can withstand your few. And yes, even Riddle."

"You forget," Dumbledore intoned gravely. "Hogwarts is not just a school. It is a place of magic. Wards older and stronger than the grounds. She can defend herself, and the students within. But then again, you were never a student here were you. How could you know her power."

"Today perhaps," Grindelwald conceded. "But not forever. I have enveloped Eastern Europe, and Germany, Austria, Switzerland. Governements fall and are rebuilt as I have desired. It is inevitable that the British will fall, as well. I gave you time, but you insist on becoming my enemy."

"I am doing _this_ , for the Greater Good." Dumbledore said. "You are the one looking for enemies."

"I am in this woods to retrieve the stone, Albus. I came for what you stole from me! And," he thrust a finger at Harry, "I was so lucky to find this boy. He will die, I will have the stone from you, and I will return even if you think my force can be defeated by a _castle_." He laughed.

"Prove yourself, your last chance. End what you started, Albus."

"I will do no such thing," he said calmly.

"But no! Wouldn't you strike the child down, as you said? It's no longer a completely defenseless babe, is he now. No, he lived eleven more years, if you could believe that.".

"I protect," Dumbledore spoke calmly, "the students in the castle to my greatest ability. Hadrian, will not come to harm." Harry heavily nodded. He felt like everything was floating. Something, they were talking about something...

"Funny that, old friend. You cower from everything now." He shot a look to Harry, who was halfway to unconsciousness. "Though perhaps you were always the man that stands before me today, and it was simply my folly not to see it. This boy lived. Proof of my momentary loss of foresight."

"Betrayal is your forte. Surely, Gellert, you did not think that sustainable," Dumbledore said. "And a child, a child is not responsible for the sins of the parents."

"Ha!" The sharp mimcry of a laugh was bitter. "You blamed me before I raised my wand on that one day. And for Riddle, you would have done the same. If anything, I had taken your advice in regards to that particular, _betrayal_. You do like to play at benevolence. Bitte, colour the sky however you please. It does not make mine any less blue."

"We may never have been friends, old friend." Dumbledore said.

"Maybe if you did not cower ever since we were boys, Albus. I daresay we could've been everything of our dreams." Harry's vision went as he lost awareness, tunneling in on Dumbledore raising his wand, slowly.

Almost reluctantly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we back boyz

**Chapter 17**

**More Bertie Botts Beans, Harry?**

* * *

_Ow_ , was the first thought Harry had.

Shit, was the second.

When he finally managed to crack his eyes open, his vision swam with the weathered brown of the stone ceiling of the infirmary.

He wanted desperately to rub at the dry corners of his eyelids, but his arms felt like lead. He remembered very suddenly the Forbidden Forest and James and Sirius and even young Snape. Then something happened...

Was that Grindelwald? Did _Grindelwald just curse him_? It's nothing short of a miracle Dumbledore came in time. Harry thought he was alive, and lucky to be so. He wonders what happened to the Dark Lord. He'd never known very much about the one that came before Voldemort. It was far before his time in the other world.

The hospital wing was completely empty besides from him. This was a thought that crept over his senses because it was eerily quiet, more than Harry had ever experienced in Hogwarts.

Hogwarts was always thrumming with life, magic, and soul. Now it felt glum- although almost familiar... like it had been this way once before...

During the Battle of Hogwarts, waiting out the ceasefire.

He yanked himself upright and ignored the swaying dizziness that accompanied the move. While Riddle remained a mystery, he'd definitely seen at least one Dark Lord today. And on the school boundaries, no less. Was Dumbledore alright? Was James, and Sirius?

He let his bare feet onto the cold floor and shakily made his way to standing.

Grindelwald was a Dark Lord, long before Voldemort had spread his wings even in Harry's first life. So caught up in his old path, Harry had forgotten that this was a new world- with new threats. He had read the papers that described Grindelwald's incredible seizure of power on the Continent, and his insidious spread into Britain... the man had managed to subdue the goblins at Gringotts- wizards and witches were only able to reach their funds due to his _benevolence._

He had yet to hold the power of Gringotts over anyone's head, but the fact remained that he _could_.

Harry felt dizzy, and it wasn't just from whatever landed him in the Hospital Wing.

He needed to find James and Sirius, or someone to tell him what had just happened, what was going on, what was _going_ to happen.

"Mister Riddle! Not so fast this time." He stifled a groan.

Not so alone after all.

* * *

A stream of air shimmered into a barely-there column, and Tom narrowly avoided the air transfigurations simply due to his avid study of Grindelwald's technique. It seemed his men were not too shabby with advanced transfigurations either.

He himself, was a more impatient man. He liked curses, preferably with little-known counters, and minimal display work. 

_But sometimes_ , Tom admitted to himself as he angled an uprooted tree-turned-acromantula, _it was fun to be a show-off. Even in dire circumstance, as it was._

He apparated out of the path of a flaying curse. Apparating was a tricky skill for a battlefield- it could lead him into the path of another spell in a split second, or leave him vulnerable.

A sharp crack to his left had him sprinting forward as a jet of light blue, likely an intestinal curse, sprung from an acolyte's wand. 

_"Spirto Convero!"_ Riddle snarled, and his aim fell true. Dispassionately, he saw the man's airways cease function, and then returned to the battle. His transfigured Acromantula had managed to chomp some legs. He felt vaguely proud of it.

He heard the thought of _him in the grey, impede_ and turned to face the mind that spewed it. His mastery of Legilmency was beyond helpful. Tom cast flawlessly, one spell blending into the next.

His opponent absorbed them all, diving out of the way just once.

 _"Sauclem dilutio evasio penetra!"_ He bellowed.

The nimble woman raised an eyebrow at his first verbal incantation and Tom used the brief distraction to follow up with his epicentre spell against her fairly impressive shield. Dust, rock, and brush flew her way in a frenzy, enough to blind her before she recovered and sidestepped, barely dodging the _letos_ spell that would have put her down.

She twisted like a fencer, or perhaps a ballerina, through his spell chain. Her movements were confident, but her expression was far from it. 

Tom knew he had her, but he wanted to see what she was worth first.

She pirouetted into her own rapid spell chain, her movements maintaining grace. It looked like she was dancing, twirling around again and firing off a few more in rapid succession after casting upon herself.

It was an inhuman dance, and Riddle found it almost hypnotic.

Almost.

Tom sheltered himself behind a barrier that covered his body, a shimmering black shield that enclosed him for the duration of her barrage.

But he was nearly caught off guard when roots shot from the ground to clamber over him. They wrapped around his legs all the way to his waist, catching his hands, shoulders and part of his back.

All at once they tried to pull him down, swallow him into the earth. It would have worked too, against most anybody, and he was reminded rather forcibly exactly why he was here.

He wasn't just anybody. He was the best.

Tom inhaled and cast upon himself, exhaling a long trail of wispy vapour, causing his enemy to freeze. Her animated roots died nearly instantly as frostbite set in and decay shattered it.

He cut the connection before it could exhaust him and found himself panting all the same.

His opponent still hadn't shook off the frost entirely, and Harry touched her mind to find… a defence?

It was certainly something he hadn't encountered before, her Occlumency seemed almost natural.

He recoiled, knowing she hadn't noticed the intrusion, and enjoying their play. She was holding something back.

 _Show me what you can really do,_ Tom thought in her direction.

So far she had been impressive, but she hadn't displayed anything exceptional, except perhaps her inhuman dodging.

Was her face getting bigger, or was that his imagination?

"You think you can just toy with me!?" She hissed at him.

_Yes._

He didn't say that, for obvious reasons.

Her body seemed to be generating heat, the air shimmering and warping above her like hot cement would give off. She managed to genuinely surprise him when she summoned _fire_ in her free hand, hurling it even as she cast with her wand.

 _Fire mage!_ Tom thought excitedly. This was much more challenging.

He wasn't sure how he stacked up to a pyrokinetic, and he wasn't sure how she stacked up to any other pyrokinetic. Her abilities were unique, and that made him understandably wary.

He would have liked to nullify her heat with his effect, challenge her pyrokinesis directly with his cryokinesis, but he had used that fairly recently and needed to catch his breath. He stepped sideways and stretched the angles where she could cast spells to their limit.

He deflected spells away and avoided the fire she threw, while slipping past those he was confident would miss.

He saw her smirk and throw a fireball towards him. It rushed past him, only to pause in mid-air. A sudden shout had the fireball detonating just past his ear, a clear miss turned into a trap.

He inhaled the heat rather than let it burn him. When the roar in his ears subsided, he heard shouting from all sides. They were garnering attention now.

She appeared a little ashen, but her anger was still there, simmering under the surface. That wasn't quite good enough, if he wanted her off-balance then Tom needed her _pissed._

Tom lobbed his distortion spell at her maw. It struck her and spun her around, then he knocked her into the dirt with another lazy flick.

She stood up frantically and turned towards him with eyes full of fury.

He waved his left hand and struck her with his wandless magic, a blanket action. Then he waved his wand to pull the air into striking her back, a creation of Grindelwald's.

She staggered to her hands and knees and looked up at him with unrestrained malice, all trace of the previous worry gone. She stood back up, her movements regaining elegance now that she was less panicked. Her face was indeed shifting; some kind of transformation?

And then, shockingly, he felt something press at his forehead.

It was a lance, full of emotions, trying to gain entrance. He shattered the probe with ease but eyed her more carefully. He felt her magic lick again at his temples, seeking refuge, but he remained steadfast.

_Legilimency? Surprising._

She was waiting, but for what? Riddle cocked his head curiously.

Could it be that she didn't feel him defending his self? Was her Legilmency so untrained?

_Ah..._

He laughed out loud, unable to help himself.

The beautiful woman frowned, any confidence she might have gained, shaken.

The pyromancy, the weak Legilmency, the transformation and the flowing movements.

"You're a veela." He laughed again. "Did you think that would work on me? That I'd just fall at your feet?"

"Do you think this is a joke?!" She exclaimed in Bulgarian.

As she managed to gather herself again, Tom felt his curiosity was sated.

Time to end this.

She was exceptional to be sure, but her Legilmency was a pale imitation of his abilities.

Her defences were a mere result of her nature, rather than of her dedication. The pyrokinesis was interesting, as was her transformation, but it was clear now she was out of her league.

She hurled a fireball at him and he spun, twirling beneath it even as he dashed sideways. As he moved left, he wondered. How much control do pyrokinetics have? How do they compare to Veela? How does _she_ sit within that spectrum?

Tom had no way of knowing, so he erred towards caution.

He let the heat build within his throat, as his wand hand grew tense. Electricity balled along his arms and arced between his fingers and his teeth as he felt the charges flow.

As he came out of his spin to stand up straight, he pointed his left hand at her and the sparks flew true. He aimed high for her heart. Her Veela heritage would protect her from burns, but not from final effect.

The bolt struck her dead centre and she was lifted from her feet, dead before she hit the dirt. Her body was steaming slightly, as was Tom's left hand. 

It wasn't a blinding summons of lightning, but it was still effective.

However little it was... it was still enough to win.

He felt the surging acolytes that they had repelled- with losses on both sides- retreat, their minds disquieted.

For now, the battle would hold ceasefire. He sought out familiar faces, still thrumming with energy as his extremities were slick with blood.

* * *

Harry was told to stay put, since he had escaped from the Hospital Wing before. So naturally he waited until he could make a break for it.

The grey sky was giving way to black, and he knew night was upon them. The corridors were hauntingly empty, even though it couldn't be curfew just yet.

But, as due to his ever-present luck, Harry nearly stumbled into a pair of very informed people.

He ducked around the wall again, carefully sticking his head out again when he realised it didn't look like they were walking anywhere. They seemed to be having a conversation, one that Harry could clearly make out.

Lucky happenstance indeed.

"They mustn't be too cocky," the Scottish Professor said with great force. "The lot of them- couldn't even pierce the boundaries. The Aurors lost a great number today I heard. Hit Wizards come in as replacements by dawn but Hogwarts staff, we are considerably competent, aren't we?"

"It seems like a siege on the MoM itself could be more effective," Riddle lightly added, prodding.

"Oh," McGonagall clucked. "I could not claim to know the desires of that dark wizard Grindelwald."

"Dark Lord," Riddle corrected.

"A smarmy title without meaning." She sniffed. "Yes, yes, very curious he would come for Hogwarts, Tom. But it doesn't seem too surprising. Albus may be one of the few wizards the world over which could remain a stronghold against such a gathering of magicals. And Hogwarts- there is no place more fortified in Britain. If they _could_ take Hogwarts, I imagine that would be it." She ended more somber.

"And the youth are the future," he reminded.

"Yes, they certainly are." She gave a wry smile, before abruptly turning away from Riddle, facing the empty corridor behind her.

Harry's eyes widened as he caught the Professor's eye.

Uh oh, spotted.

"Mister Riddle! To bed with you, immediately." Minerva was clutching her neck in abject horror, to Tom's confusion and ire. His old schoolmate had no right to take that tone with him so suddenly-

"Sorry," came a soft yelp, and Tom saw over Minerva's shoulder a small wisp of a child race back down the hall. 

"The nerve," she clucked. "We should've cast privacy charms all the same." She shook her head ruefully.

"The child- funny that we'd share that name."

"Ah, yes." Tom was being vague, but Minerva understood the digging he was doing. If he was thinking of the first obvious conclusion, it was an impression she had laboured under as well, and it was best to clear it up now or else misunderstandings could be difficult. "I found it interesting, a boy with the name of my old schoolmate- an orphan in a care home that sounded vaguely familiar." The Professor chuckled. "Perhaps you complained of the orphanage enough times for me to overhear... not that I blame you, those establishments tend to be underfunded and droll."

"Wool's," Tom said perfectly calmly, in that funny little way that meant he _wasn't_ calm, not at all. "Hadrian Riddle. What a strange twist of fate."

"Yes indeed. How ever did you know his name? Aside from Hadrian's circumstance coinciding with yours, there seems to be some connection. I asked after his family-- orphans are terribly sympathetic aren't they-- and it seems there is no viable link between you two besides a common name and a hair color. His family truly dead, leaving him to the muggle system." Minerva gave him a shrewd eye. "Not that that's a _bad_ thing, not being like you. You think you were invited here without anyone acknowledging your little, hem, extracurriculars? Personally, back in school, I though your provocations were blatant." She sighed.

"He seems a bright young thing, and I wouldn't want to see another bright soul end up like the likes of you."

"The ilk of Dumbledore strikes again. Hadrian," Tom stressed the child's name, "would do well to achieve half as much as I have. And I have questioned after the child myself, after an altercation in the halls. Dumbledore assured me himself that the child has bore nothing but ill will from carrying my name in that place, Wool's, after, of course, telling me of our curious case of name-sharing. Riddle, was always terribly common." He curled his lip, and thought to himself, _but Parseltongue was never a common gift_.

He felt, still, uneasy about the Headmaster's quick explanations. It was distracting, his anger for the muggles, particularly his anger over Wool's, but still he was feeling displaced after hearing the boy _hiss_.

"You have achieved much, Tom," Minerva said. "You're a very great man, and very young for it too. Some would say you are well on your way to being a centennial wizard, even, one of a kind of a hundred years. I did not mean to insult your accomplishments." 

"You don't sound like you share the thought," he said. Minerva frowned. "Me, some centennial," he clarified.

"No, I do. You'll always be a great wizard- I think not a thing in the world could stop you from that- but I don't think it's all it's cracked up to be, hm." She cast _tempus_. "It's getting late. We have to reconvene shortly with the others."

Tom nodded to acquiesce, but he couldn't leave it be. He did not understand her.

"What's greater than great, if I may be so bold?"

"It's not that, Riddle." She said almost chidingly. "It's just, well, if we were all very _lucky_ \- the great men, like you, and yes like Grindelwald even- they would be good men first..."

Tom didn't know what to say to that, she was still making no sense. They didn't speak anymore on their way back to the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"Harry you're alive!" Came a weak shout from James. He'd decided on the Gryffindor common room first, he wanted to see where James and Sirius were, if they were okay.

He frowned. "What's wrong with your voice?" James gestured around as if to say, 'no big'.

"Grindelwald did something to my throat," he said in that same light air. "But you were looking awfully out of shape. Shame that you missed Dumbledore's duel. I get it now, why they call him brilliant..."

Harry had noticed the figure hunched into itself by the window, looking miserably over the fields and to the mountains behind. James followed his line of sight.

"He's been mopey," he added by way of explanation. "I did _try_ to say sorry, really I didn't care anymore, but he wouldn't even talk to me!"

"Sirius?" Harry called.

The boy's drooping head jerked up and looked to him with wide eyes. "You're alright," he breathed, and leapt down from the window seat. "Harry I shouldn't have ran off like that... it was stupid. I should've been there for you guys- instead you got cursed by a dark wizard-"

"Grindelwald," James interjected.

"-and Dumbledore had to save all of us!"

"Sirius you couldn't've known, or even if you had you couldn't have stopped him!" Harry reassured the boy, clasping his shoulder in a warm gesture. "Are you and James still fighting?"

Sirius shuffled awkwardly and mumbled, "Well he said sorry."

"And I meant it," James added earnestly. "It was stupid to say."

They shared a small smile.

"So, where _is_ Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," James said. "The bird-"

"Phoenix," Sirius corrected.

"The _phoenix_ flew us to the school. The whole castle's on lockdown, Harry, it's mad."

"I heard that there's been another attack," a girl said from the loveseat nearest. She lowered her voice into a hush. "It's Grindelwald's followers, and they've come to Hogwarts."

"We saw him," James irritably shared. "Like I've _said._ "

"Sure!" She scoffed.

Harry felt ill.

"What's he here for anyways?" He asked.

"I don't know what they're here for," the girl considered, shaking her pigtails back and forth. "My mam didn't say anything but her sister's been sent off with the Aurors to the Hogwarts boundary line. No way it's actually Grindelwald himself. Why would he come to a school?"

"No idea," Harry thought aloud. "No idea at all." And he thought of what the Dark Lord had said, that he was a boy that shouldn't be alive.

What had that meant? 

This, coupled with the odd documentations that he'd intercepted from that man in Honeydukes, was means for an investigation. Because something was certainly afoot, and Harry really had this awful feeling that he was a part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for wait- really, I am, it's just been sitting on my laptop, haunting me... and the hospital is both taking away my free time and giving me more? But I want to reassure any readers that this is very much not abandoned and will be finished, like all of my current posted works


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